Cloak and Dagger
by blackpond
Summary: Lottie is called to Glen's Bedchambers and Oswald, who has taken control of Leo's body and has every intention of taking advantage of the situation, is now a much changed (and significantly warped) young man. The other Glen's simply observe Oswald's actions and contemplate their own states Warning: If you do not what to see Oswald/Glen act in a very violent manner, don't read this.
1. Chapter 1: Lottie

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts nor do I hold any rights to it.

"Master Glen has summoned you."

The words had sent a jolt through Lottie. How she longed to hear those words. How she'd longed to hear them for 100 years. Glen, Master Glen, in her mind_ her_ Glen.

"You are to go to his private quarters."

And those words were the ones that left her trembling as she made her way down dark desolate hallways to Master Glen's room. 100 years ago she would've been elated, hell a few weeks ago she would've been elated. But now she wasn't so sure.

She couldn't pin point whether or not her trembling stemmed from her excitement or her fear of the man who she had dreamed about all of these years. This Glen seemed different from the man she thought of as her Glen.

Her Glen had been calm and level headed, perhaps a little stoic, but steady and distinctly comforting none-the-less and though she always wondered what lurked beneath those level, sad violet eyes that seemed sometimes a little too distant she never dreamed it was anything like what was her Glen now.

Her Glen now seemed filled with black hot anger and a knife edge quality between rage and oblivion that hadn't existed in him before. He seemed unpredictable, ready to snap at any moment, brittle. He seemed to go in and out of an eerie calm and then a sort of barely checked rage. And with the final seal broken she knew it was all Glen and not that Leo boy whose only remains left were a body that now only Glen controlled. And she had to admit that despite the fact that it was not the Glen's body that she had known a century ago, it was none the less Glen's body now.

It was strange, when she first met that Leo boy at Lutwidge he had looked so different, nothing much of note about him at all. But now, it was like the very lines of his face had changed. The Glen's body of today was a bit shorter, not as tall and broad and built as the previous Glen's body but she was sure that in no time at all those differences too would be made obsolete.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if this was perhaps to do with her being a Baskerville and therefor loyal to her master no mater his physical state and that somehow her mind was erasing those differences to avoid confusion and doubt, or if perhaps Glen's presence in that body was changing it somehow, molding it to the previous Glen's image.

She wasn't sure.

She'd heard that the Glen before her Glen had looked very different so she couldn't be sure about the validity of her theory.

Still she found herself just as attracted to this Glen physically as she had been to the last. She was certain that she was in love though a darker part of her wondered if it was love or perhaps just a side effect of being a Baskerville.

Would she have loved him if they had just been a boy and a girl and nothing more? Did all Baskervilles harbor a deep passionate love for Glen? Did Lily turn into a ditzy klutz when in the presence of that great man? Did Doug close his eyes and imagine Glen thrusting into him when he came after some time alone with his hand and himself? She doubted it.

_Great man_, she thought to herself, _and why exactly do I think of him as a "great man"?_

Because he was nice. Because he had always treated her with respect which was more than she could say of what she got from her old life.

Maybe it was because of that calm, that resolute quality, the fact that she felt like she could follow him anywhere and it would be okay and the right thing to do.

_Or maybe that's the Baskerville part of me talking_, she thought with a degree of resentment, because she never really would know truly.

Because she was a Baskerville and he was Glen, her master, nothing could ever erase the facts. And so she bit her lip hard and tried to keep from trembling or else collapsing on the floor because her knees were that weak and she felt half numb everywhere.

Another thought occurred to her.

_Can any of those "great" qualities that I called off earlier really be said of Glen _now_?_

Glen now was different. Glen now was darker

_Well, can I really say that I too have not become darker_? She thought to herself with a lingering pang of regret.

100 years ago she had been a different girl, more demure, maybe a little less jaded. She'd experienced terrible things before becoming a Baskerville, sure, but then she _became_ a Baskerville.

Things changed for her. The world seemed brighter. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't all alone. There wasn't something wrong with her. She was just different. And there in a place where everyone was different she found a purpose and a sense of safety and stability that she had never known before coming to the Baskerville estate. It was like a dream.

And then she saw Glen. And she thought that there was a certain sadness and sense of great loss in his eyes that matched her own. She thought that he of all people might understand her. She was breath taken by him.

Yes, with sadness she thought of the girl she had once been, rather modest and inexperienced but with a little flicker of hope in her that things could get better, that she could be happy and that she could just be in the presence of and serve that great man, that maybe one day he'd look at her and smile or address her by name. She'd accept anything really. Just being near him was enough. That was who she'd been.

Then the Tragedy of Sablier happened. She was dropped into the Abyss along with the city and 100 years passed. Little by little that flicker of hope died out.

She came out of the Abyss and into a world that had changed, a world that was nothing like the world she had known, a world without Glen. And it grated. She was heartbroken.

First she was told of the time that had passed, the state of the Abyss (and really, like they needed to tell her after all the time she had spent in that unforgiving hell-hole, time non-existent, time and uncertainty and loneliness and fear…so much fear). Then they began to explain that Glen was _gone_, nothing, not a trace of him anywhere. There was no Glen in this world. His soul had been sealed away, not transferred to the next vessel.

After a century of searching still there was no evidence of Glen, or where he was. Lottie thought that she'd find him, that because she was there they'd find him, they just hadn't been trying hard enough, but _she, she_ would find him, but it had been a long fruitless search with no sign of stopping. Hope was a joke to her now but she kept moving forward because maybe…maybe…

She looked different now. She tramped about in a short skirt with her boobs pushed out and up as far as she could get them (well, she'd always been quite proud of her breasts). Her attitude changed. She was a little more confident now. She could laugh bitterly at her former self, so shy she could hardly look a man in the eyes. She'd gotten over that however. She had experimented with that side of herself with that Vessalius boy (Jack) before being dropped into the Abyss. In truth she kind of thought that by spending time with and observing the Vessalius boy that maybe she could discover the secret to getting Glen to like her. In a way she thought that by being with Jack she'd be closer to Glen. It was twisted thinking she knew, but still.

But now, these days, sex was a weapon and a tool that she used well.

She had used Fang originally as practice, though after the first few times she felt that she'd scared him, so she stopped. She had liked Fang. He was a good friend and a good guy. She didn't want to harm that friendship so she stopped.

She continued on however using sex as a way to intimidate or seduce information out of men and occasionally women. It was necessary and she'd long forgotten the amount of people she'd used that little trick on. But it was all for her Master Glen she told herself, and therefore it was fine, justified even.

Then along came Vincent.

Vincent was weird. Vincent was sadistic. Vincent was a boy who knew his way around sex almost as well as he knew his way around a pair of scissors, so well that it was scary. Behind that angelic, innocent face was a world of deception, Lottie knew. Though she feared him and didn't particularly like him, always getting the feeling that he had that pair of scissors inches away from her back or else something up his sleeve, she enjoyed sex with him for an entirely different reason: Sex with him was like an escape, a tool to forget her current life and pretend, pretend so she could keep sane and go one with the present.

Vincent was without a doubt an attractive boy but she enjoyed sex with him for two reasons: One) because he was just so damn good at what he did and two) because behind closed eyes he was Glen, _her_ Glen and it just felt so good pretending.

Besides Vincent wasn't some pure, innocent soul. He was using her every bit as much as she was using him and perhaps even more than that.

She felt truly sorry for the poor wench that fell for him, though secretly she couldn't help but root for that Vesalius girl to get away from him before she truly did end up destroyed.

In the time between going into the Abyss and now she had also developed a taste for pain. It hadn't always been there. There had been a time when she genuinely didn't like being hurt, but now she'd grown to like it. She considered it something that was like a gift, something she craved, something she hoped brought her closer to Glen, something that she could feel and know was real. And after all when one's life had been for the most part populated with pain was it not better to grow to like it and use it and feed off of it and crave it than it was fight and rail against it all her life when the one thing that her life had taught her was that pain was always around the corner? She wondered why she couldn't have learned this lesson sooner, when she was younger.

Yes, Lottie had grown to love and cherish pain and being with a man like Vincent, someone who seemed to know all too well that chasm of pain and pleasure and the thin line separating the two. Well it was a good thing.

Looking back on it she also imagined that Mister Hatter knew that game well also. She thought about him, chained up several hundred feet below her and wondered when she'd get to test that theory on him. Or maybe it would be the Vessalius boy. She didn't particularly care.

It did amaze her however that after years of thinking that she was only happy when hurting or being hurt that she could in one breath go back to this: Wondering if Master Glen might smile in her presence, if he might speak her name or remember her, wondering absently what those lips would feel like on her neck, gently pressing kisses on her, not biting her, what those long, elegant hands would feel like roaming her body, not ripping and tearing and grabbing at her. After all Lottie could stand up under a lot of punishment. Lottie could be hurt over and over and over again. It paid to be a Baskerville. After all she could always heal. But for once in these past few years her mind wasn't focused on pain, hurting and healing.

After all there was Glen, a different Glen, but still Glen.

_Then again I know what it was like being in the Abyss for a hundred years, the way time stretched on and yet seemed short. It was hell. It changed me_.

What must it have been like, his soul chained up all this time? Was he aware? Could he see what was going on around him? Was he aware of what Jack was doing? Could he see what the world had turned into? Did he think about things? Was he in pain?

When she thought of a hundred years locked up in your own mind aware or not, she figured that it would change you quite a bit. She could relate after all. Maybe that was the weirdness and sense or wrongness that she sensed from him. It was understandable. Lottie looked down at her trembling hands.

_Why? Why am I trembling? It's not from fear_, she reassured herself_. I could never fear my Lord Glen. I love him._

And she was nodding her head as if to re-assure herself, as if to make it more real.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to steady herself.

_I'm not afraid_, she thought once more, her legs moving of their own volition and picking up speed.

She stuffed a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear, for a moment forgetting that her hair was up. Then she looked down at her clothes, almost laughing to herself.

A hundred years ago indeed.

They'd had a party that night, celebrating the return of t_heir_ Glen and also the collapse of Pandora. But let's be honest, it was all about Glen.

Vincent had arranged the whole thing and Lottie couldn't be sure but she got the feeling that Glen wasn't terribly pleased with it, but he put with it. He sat, a bored expression painting his young features, elbow propped on arm rest and chin resting on hand, as Vincent stood by his side pouring him a drink with a very prosaic look on his face. Vincent was a hard man to read, but Glen was harder.

The first thing that Lottie did when she heard about the party was bribe one of the other Baskervilles so that she and Lily could have good seats, just three seats to the right and down from the head seat where Glen sat.

After having confirmed that, Lottie raided a couple of closets and found something that, after a few alterations, mainly to the bust, she deemed suitable, something that actually covered her legs. She did her hair up beautifully, along with Lily's. She had raided an old box she'd been keeping (for unknown reasons, even to herself) full of ribbons and hair ornaments and used them on their hair.

She used red ribbon and little black and gold butterflies in her own hair and small multi-colored rose ribbons for Lily. She'd offered Echo some of her stash of finery but she refused.

Echo had been acting weird lately though, especially after that Vessalius boy was captured. She had thought about cornering the girl and asking her about it at the party but then she was at the party and there was Glen and that was all she could see.

She spent the night watching him intently.

As the other Baskervilles ate and made toasts Glen barely touched his wine and mostly just stared at his plate with a weird look on his face, almost in mute amusement over the whole thing. Occasionally he would graze his fork over the medium rare meat watching as the blood seeped, pooled on his plate, some of it disappearing when he eased the pressure. He moved his mashed potatoes around and carefully avoided his asparagus. For a man who was so stoic and responsible, sometimes seeming cold and detached about everything else, for some reason he just could not stomach his vegetables.

_He looks thin_, Lottie thought. _He really should eat something_.

But he didn't the entire time. Instead he just sat there, a king at his table, observing everyone else as if he was apart from it, a man bored by a play, his dark eyes with even darker bags hanging prominently under them, taking in the scene, expressionless.

_I wonder if he's sleeping enough_. She thought as she idly forked a carrot in her mouth.

She had a desire to go over there and feed him herself but knew it was inappropriate and blushed, eating for the most part in silence.

There was one instance where Lottie, as she did numerous times during the evening, lifted her head to watch Glen, trying to gauge how he was doing, when suddenly she caught his eyes and Lottie realized that she'd been staring at the man quite bluntly even while he was looking at her.

She blushed, nearly dropping her fork with quite a clatter, causing a few of those seated within her vicinity to pause and look at her.

"Lottie, are you okay?" Lily asked her.

"Fine." Lottie said, trying to keep her embarrassment under control and her voice from going squeaky. "Just fine."

She looked to Glen once more.

He turned his head once more and their eyes met, his cool, emotionless, violet eyes grazing over her pink ones like his fork on his meat. She blushed and hardly said a word the rest of the night, choosing to make her plate and wine glass the focal point for the evening lest her eyes go straying to that great man and her embarrassing herself even more. She was positive that her face had to be on fire based on the feeling of warmth that was burning her alive.

_And I thought I was over and through with such things_, she thought.

Apparently not.

She once again almost smiled to herself as she walked down the hallway.

Thinking back on this evening it could have been an evening from a century ago.

Back then things had seemed so peaceful, so reassuring. The Baskervilles had dinners all the time (though back then Glen would at least eat something and be polite about the wine). Thinking back on it Lottie wasn't sure if she appreciated the peaceful times enough. After she'd arrived at the Baskerville estate it just seemed to be something that was a given, just like the sky would never fall and the ground would always be solid, there would always be Glen. Stability seemed to be a given. Everything was so_ good_ back then. The days were bright and sunny, the nights were pitch black blue and silver, there was no such thing as want, there were copious amounts of food, wine, a nice warm house, pretty clothes, endless parties. It was dream like. It was dreamlike and it seemed like it would never fall, could never fall. Time seemed endless too. They were good times.

Why couldn't they last?

Why didn't they last?

_Maybe they will come back_, she thought idly as she turned a corner.

Everything had seemed so peaceful. The idea of that pleasant reality falling to pieces had seemed so incomprehensible back then. But now it was an everyday reality. Anything and everything could always fall. Nothing was immune it seemed.

She sighed and turned yet another corner, trying to push stray thoughts out of her mind. One more corner and a short walk and she would be delivered to Glen's door.

The thought should have made her happy, but it wasn't that simple.

_Why am I shaking?_ She thought.

She still didn't really have her answer.

She approached the end of a hallway, a dark wood, thin, twin inset door with golden knobs flanked by two Baskervilles, one she knew and one she didn't, laying at the end of it.

"I was summoned to see Master Glen." She said as she approached, all of a sudden becoming very aware of where she was being summoned: To Glen's room, to Master Glen's bedroom.

She wondered what the other two Baskervilles thought, not that she particularly cared either way but still this is not exactly what you would call normal. As far as she knew the only people who had gained passage to his private quarters were two maids, Vincent and Echo.

Lottie absent mindedly fiddled with her hair before straightening her necklace, feeling her own heart nearly beating out of the cage which was her chest.

"Yes, he's expecting you." Said Cenna, a Baskerville that Lottie remembered from long ago, her red cape swirling as she went to unlock the door.

The second Baskerville, a man, stayed stationary, flanking the door and only managed to get a look at Lottie out of the side of his eye.

Lottie took a breath and entered the darkened room, with only a raging fire in the fire place to the right to provide any sort of illumination. The large, thick four poster bed was right in front of her. To the left were windows with the navy curtains still open allowing some more light from the half way moon to pool in. The room's color scheme consisted of dark blue, cream white and dark wood. There was intricate crown molding near the ceiling. The carpeting was short pile and dark blue with a little demure gold diamond pattern running across it, a burnt red dot in the middle of each diamond. There was another rug that she couldn't see off to the right, near the fire place that designated a seating area consisting of two leather arm chairs and a side table between them. In front of the arm chairs was a claw footed coffee table. It was over all a richly furnished room, though sparse, that lacked any personal touches what-so-ever.

_It's fitting_, she thought, _both of his personality and the circumstances._

Glen wasn't one for the unnecessary and his tastes, though elegant, had always been surprisingly simplistic.

She liked that about him.

She took three careful steps inside and dropped into a deep bow, her head down and not daring to look up.

"Lord Glen, Lottie is here as requested." Cenna's voice said over the crackling fire.

Lottie kept her head down.

When she had walked in there was one dark figure, the only figure in the room, that Lottie managed to make out. He was standing right behind the side table, a hand resting on one of the arm chairs, staring straight into the fire. She couldn't make out much about his facial expression but she knew it was Glen. He was dressed in the same formal attire as earlier, his now feathery hair highlighted and made darker still by the orange and gold glow from the fireplace. And then there was that presence. That presence that allowed no doubt, this was Glen.

"My Lord." She mumbled trying to keep her voice steady.

Her head remained down. There was a moment of silence that seemed to go on forever.

"Cenna, you and Benson are dismissed for now. You may leave."

"Yes, my Lord." Came the simple reply and like that she vanished behind a door and two sets of footsteps could be heard in the distance slowly taping into the distance.

It wasn't until after the two sets of footsteps were completely gone and had been so for some time that Lottie heard the shifting of fabric and two soft pats of shoes against carpet. She watched as the two deep dark red brown leather shoes came into view right in front of her, polished and perfect and precise.

She was now aware of how painfully tight her corset was, her chest straining against the confines simply in the act of breathing. Then she felt a hand cup under her chin and lift her face up so she was looking up at him.

His hands were surprisingly large and warm and more manly than she had expected. Her Glen's hands had always been long, elegant and more spindly. Also on the few occasions that she had touched his hands they'd been a good deal colder. As much as she wanted to ignore the differences they were there all the while.

Glen's eyes slowly grazed over hers as he held her chin, Lottie being careful not to move. He raked over her features as if appraising her before finally resting on her lips. His eyes were spirally now, like her own, but unlike her own they were the most beautiful violet color, like her Glen's eyes had been. They sucked you in and she realized that she was trembling slightly under his scrutiny.

"Lottie." He said in that voice that was like his voice and then not like his voice, lacking the deepness that it had once possessed and replaced with a slightly more feminine undertone.

The more she thought about it the more she noticed that his voice almost had a two tone quality to it.

"My Lord." She said as her eyes cast downwards to the two large pristine shoed feet.

"Lottie." The man smirked as he took his thumb and placed it on her lips and slowly, moving from the bottom lip to the top and the skin above it, then back down again, finally dragging across her chin, smearing her lipstick on her face.

Lottie was frozen, not quite sure what to make of it. He removed his hand and his smirk deepened.

"The nickname _He_ gave you." He said quietly. "Truly, does anything go un-touched when it comes to that man?"

She was stunned, stuttering for the right words to say but nothing came out.

Glen quickly yanked out a handkerchief from his pocket, dragged it over his fingers and then tossed it at Lottie.

To her amazement she actually caught it.

"Wipe that smut off your face. It doesn't become you." He barked out and to her amazement he actually sounded more like her Glen.

She obeyed without thought, still kneeling on the ground as Glen began to pace.

"You've dealt with Oz Vessalius?" He asked.

"Yes."

"And you've seen Jack in that boy yourself?"

"Yes." She answered mindlessly.

"You don't believe that Jack is playing a trick on us? You believe that there is a separate entity, Oz the B-Rabbit?"

"Yes, they're not the same."

Glen sighed and began walking back to the side with the fireplace.

"It doesn't matter. They'll both have to be killed. There's no helping it." He said under his breath. "I was told that you've also dealt with the Mad Hatter."

"Yes." She sighed, recalling that time in Sablier and again at Isla Yura's party.

He was a strange man that she didn't quite understand.

"Do you know how he got his chain?"

"No. It is assumed that the Rainsworth's allowed him to contract with it, though there's no proof of that, nor is there a record of that chain existing before. It is exceedingly powerful though and he knows how to wield it well. He did quite a bit of damage to Zwei and me in Sablier and he killed Fang. It was horrifying." She wiped away at her lips wondering what the meaning of it was. "But as truly frightening as he is I'm not exactly sure he's against us." She quickly followed up. "It's not as though I think he's an ally. I believe that him being locked up is for the best. But I wonder if there will come a time where he could be beneficial to us. He could've killed Zwei and me in Sablier, but he didn't."

_He could've raped me in Sablier, but he didn't_, she almost added but didn't.

"I don't think he's wholly bad. At the party he said that our goals are one in the same. The only reason he attacked us was because Lily killed his friend otherwise I think he would've proceeded to make an alliance with us." Lottie's brows knitted in concentration as she thought about that and wiped the last of the lip stick off. "I believe that he was sincere in his desire to join forces. But I will admit he's hard to read."

"He's a child of misfortune?" Glen questioned, having already paced back to the left side of the room, now gazing out a window.

"Yes." Lottie answered slowly, almost forgetting the bizarre predicament she was in. "He has one red eye. The other one is missing."

Glen nodded, arms folded.

"So he's a child of misfortune? Then he'll have to be put in the Abyss, too."

Lottie looked over at him.

It's not that she didn't understand his logic; it was just that it felt wrong somehow and Glen seemed completely oblivious to that wrongness.

He pushed away from the wall that he'd been leaning up against and slowly sauntered over to her.

"You are next to watch Ja-" He stopped himself. "That thing, aren't you?"

Lottie took a breath and nodded.

"Yes, My Lord." She could see his face better now with the aid of adjusting eyes and the moon and though she thought he was different she also thought he was the same.

And besides she was beginning to see herself appreciating those differences. This Glen vessel maintained some of the handsomeness of her Glen with the addition of a certain pretty quality to him. His eyes, his cheekbones, his thinner lips, they all contributed to that prettiness. She could see herself loving and worshipping that prettiness in him just as she worshipped the last Glen. Her Glen.

It was with these thoughts that she once again noticed that her corset was exceedingly tight. Was it going to crush her?

It felt as if it would.

Glen's eyes were on her.

"See if you can get anything of use out of him but don't torture him. If need be I'll do that part myself."

"Yes, My Lord." Lottie whispered, thinking that Glen's words were strange.

"Now." Glen said, having made his way to stand right in front of her. "Get up." He said and she did without a second thought, realizing that the vessel was now taller than her.

She didn't think that Leo boy had been when she met him a Lutwidge but she could've been mistaken.

"Now, take your clothes off."

Lottie's face reddened and she blinked.

"I'm sorry My Lord, but could you repeat that." Now she knew she was shaking and once again the question of from fear or excitement surfaced in her mind.

"I said take off your clothes, Charlotte."

The name sent a jolt through Lottie that she hadn't been expecting.

The last person who had called her that had been Jack when he'd spoken to her through Oz. No one ever called her that anymore.

It was different coming from Glen though.

She could've cried both from the nostalgia of hearing that name from his mouth and all the lovely things it conjured up and the horrid contrast of his request, a request which just the thought of carrying out made her want to throw up and revolt, the idea of humiliation and the fact that, though she'd wanted something like this and had even dreamt of it, she did not want it like this. She could've stood it with other men, she might've even enjoyed it, but with Glen…No this wasn't what she wanted with Glen. This wasn't how she wanted it to be. She wanted to run. She wanted it to stop, but she couldn't seem to get her lips to move.

He went on.

"Charlotte, I want you to strip, right here, right now, right before me, so that I may see you with these very eyes of mine. Is that alright, Charlotte?" His voice was like a low purr and the blend of Leo and Glen's voices together was truly odd.

She concentrated on the part of the voice that was like Glen's.

"You will do this for me, won't you Charlotte?"

And not of her own volition Lottie felt herself nod as she began slipping off her pink silk embroidered shoes, her mind swimming in a cloud of confusion.

"Yes, My Lord." She said in a whisper, not even sounding like herself.

_Why am I doing this?_ She thought._ This is not how I want it to be. I wanted him, yes, but not like this, God I wouldn't even want Vincent to take me like this, stripping, following instructions. This is horrible._

She feels a hand touch her shoulder and she jumps, frightened that somehow he's heard these inner thoughts. The hand applies gentle pressure.

"Not from the bottom. Start from the top." And he playfully flicked one of the little gold and black butterflies entwined in her hair, batted at a red ribbon. "From the very top." He whispered in her ear and she felt a chill of revulsion tingle down her spine and she wondered if the shock showed on her face.

She slipped her shoes back on and began pulling at a red ribbon in her hair.

_And yet I'm still doing this_, she thought. _So what does that mean? That on some level I enjoy it? That I want this? That I don't want to refuse Glen so I'm forcing down my own preferences or is it that I'm a Baskerville and so I can't refuse?_

Either way wispy strands of pink were slowly joined by more as her nimble fingers worked away at the ribbons, unraveling them and then dropping them to the floor where they pooled.

Next came the butterflies.

All the while she was aware of Glen, behind her, watching her, pacing. She couldn't help but notice that he moved differently. He was more spry and swift, much more fluid, like water. Not that her Glen had been stiff he'd just been more composed, confined and restricted, something born out of age, a young man's refinement.

_He_ had been 27 while this body was 16. Perhaps, he could afford to be a little more playful in his movements but she had to admit that there was a certain grace and elegance that was utterly lacking now.

She missed it.

She took off her earrings, then her necklace and tossed them onto the leather chair. Then she started at the long line of silk buttons that led down the back of her dress.

She knew that he could see her and was probably observing how she was struggling with them and a part of her thought that perhaps he enjoyed watching her struggle. As she slowly fiddled and unbuttoned each button there was nothing but the rustle of fabric and the crackle of the fire. As she neared the last few buttons he spoke.

"I understand that you've been working with Vincent. What do you think of him?"

Lottie wanted to laugh.

How did one sum up Vincent Nightray?

She tried for Glen's sake and also to distract herself from her humiliating task.

"Vincent is…deceptive and cunning and he's selfish and greedy and he'll use anything and anyone to achieve his goals. The entire time I've worked with him I've been very aware that he would use me or any other Baskerville or even just person in general if he thought it could benefit him in some way. That's the kind of person he is…"

Her dress slid to the ground along with a few petticoats, revealing a corset with garters attached.

She began undoing the garters.

"He is manipulative…" She began, becoming more oblivious to her situation and feeling more like herself. "…underhanded and sneaky. He will use anything in his arsenal and he is very, very skilled at getting what he wants from people." She thought for a moment. "He's like something that slithers, like a snake." She said feeling that she'd captured him in a few words as she began undoing the eyes and hooks on the front of her corset.

She started from the top.

_I don't want to do this_, was the resounding thought in her mind.

When she'd thought about Glen she'd always thought it would be different, more like him undressing her, not her as an exhibition or the entertainment.

_Please, no_. She closed her eyes almost feeling tears sting her eyes and a lump rise in her throat. She pushed it down as she undid the first hook.

"He'll use his looks, his intellect, his social status, his body, his chain, others emotions. He's a boy who will do what he has to."

Another hook undone.

"I guess I understand that." She sighed. "If you want to know something about the boy just think about what he's accomplished in such a short period of time. 15 years ago he was a child who had just crawled out of the Abyss with nothing but the shirt on his back. Now he, and his brother, are adopted sons of the nobility. They've grown up with prestige, money and power behind them which is a far cry from how they started."

Another hook undone.

"Vincent's very smart and clever. He knows how to play the people around him and he has become very skilled and knowledgeable in how to maneuver around in society. He's very popular in society and he knows that. And he was very valuable to the Nightray Dukedom and he knew that. He also is the only Nightray left standing other than his brother. That tells you something. Vincent is the kind of man willing to do _anything_ to get what he wants. He'll lie, cheat, steal, kill and seduce if he has to. Vincent's not afraid to get dirty. Vincent does these things so often I doubt he even thinks of them as wrong. I think he's done them so much he doesn't even know himself, so singular and devoted he is to his goal. He's grown a lot from the little boy you used to know. And he knows how to hide everything. He's so good at lying that it's like spun gold rolls off his tongue as he does so. He'd seduce a child if he thought it'd get him one step closer to what he wanted."

And another hook.

"But there is one person that he is disgustingly loyal to and obsessed with: His brother. Vincent Nightray would do anything for his brother Gilbert, even if he ended up being hated by him. Anything for Nii-san!"

Another hook and it popped off sliding to the floor.

"So if you're asking if I think he can be trusted…" She sighed as she went to roll down her stockings.

She had noticed that Glen had stopped his pacing. She tried to ignore it as she bent to roll the stockings down to her ankles.

"…I would say that if he's promised you something that has something to do with the welfare or happiness of his _dearest_ Nii-san, Gilbert, you probably can count on his loyalty. He_ cares_ about his brother…perhaps a little too much, the sick bastard." Lottie looked back at Glen who was standing completely still, eyes a little glazed over with a barely concealed lust as he stared at her.

He swallowed and she could see his Adam's apple bob slightly as if he had suddenly become aware of her gaze. His hand went up to cover his mouth as his other hand sank into his pants pocket.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled. "I know he's your servant but…"

"No." Glen coughed self-consciously. "He maybe my servant but I have no illusions about him. He is a child of misfortune. He'll have to be dealt with."

Lottie felt her chest ice over at how cold he sounded.

Had he always been that cold, almost heartless?

"Do you know anything about Gilbert? Have you had any contact with him?" Glen asked hesitantly but regaining some of his composure

"No. I know that he's Vincent's elder brother and that according to Vincent he walks on water and shits gold. But besides that? Very little. He does seem steadfastly loyal to that Vessalius boy."

"Because of Jack." Glen said dully.

"Yes, well other than that I really don't know that much about him. He seems rather gloomy and dull if you ask me."

"Serious." Glen corrected. "He's always been very serious, responsible, given to worry. Something I can understand." He sighed. "Look how things have turned out. He should've been the next vessel. I shouldn't be here right now. I have to correct things. I don't want to have to hurt him. It's weird. He's a man now."

Lottie thought back to the few fuzzy memories she had of a dark haired boy who followed Glen around like a little lost, nervous, energetic puppy. He sometimes followed Jack around, too.

_Had things turned out the way were supposed to, would I have fallen in love with that Gilbert boy? Which part am I in love with? The collective Glen, the body of Glen, or the soul of the man who stands behind me? Or does it all just sum up to me being a Baskerville and him being Glen? Am I just a love sick slut for my Master, no different from a young and impressionable girl serving at a noble's house, pining away for a Master that she could never dream of having a real relationship with, only a quick 'wham-bam thank you ma'am' in a quiet dark room at the end of the hallway?_

The thought unsettled her and troubled her as she finally slipped off her shoes and then unrolled the last bit of stocking off her feet.

She heard Glen sigh behind her.

When she'd turned around it hit her once again that he was taller than her, for some reason that took away some of the edge that Glen's body was that of someone several years younger than herself. The height lent him a certain air, of being older, more mature, a man...

"I'm told you have met with this body when it was fully under its former possessor's control." Glen's voice cut the air as Lottie stood there before him, utterly and completely naked, feeling both the chill of the air on her breasts and the heat of the fire and her cheeks burning her alive as she stood under this man's scrutiny.

It was humiliating, like being examined and she half expected for him to smack her ass or examine her teeth like she was some sort of animal. She could no longer tell if his talking to her was helping her or just further asserting the idea that she was his subordinate whom he could make strip before him while being questioned on various topics. Everything in her wanted to scream out, or run away, or just break down in tears.

_I didn't want it to be like this_, she thought.

But on the other hand she could've questioned him when he asked her to start stripping (even if she couldn't have refused his order) and she hadn't. She'd just complied. And it left her with a sick feeling in her stomach that begged the question '_Do I want this?_'. Was this going to be her final undoing, the last precious thing being stripped away from her? Had time so changed her that she had actually grown to like being treated like an object, even by someone whom she cherished and respected and…_loved so_ much?

_Am I getting my wish or having a dream smashed before me?_

She stood straight in the moist night air, painfully aware of her nakedness, hands balled into fists at her side as she tried not to cover herself, tried not to think of herself as naked before her Master Glen and instead as clothed as she had been minutes before.

She could feel the air behind her stirring again.

Glen had picked up his pacing again.

"Tell me Charlotte, what were your impressions of him?"

"Of Leo?" Lottie asked, surprised that now that she was naked they were going to talk about him. "Um, he was that Elliot boys valet. He was quiet. He wore glasses. He shot me." She sighed. "I really didn't know very much about him. What little I do know about him comes from Vincent. Apparently Leo and the Nightray boy, Elliot, were very close. I never would've suspected…" Her voice trailed off.

"Tell me what you thought of him physically, Charlotte." He purred into her ear.

_And here we go_, Lottie thought.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't even think much of him. I hardly noticed him." She paused. "But if you're talking about now, I do find him physically attractive because of the parts of him that have grown to resemble you, Lord Glen." She was trembling as she said this and she didn't dare to turn around and look at her Master who she felt was scrutinizing her very carefully.

"Charlotte." Glen began, sounding a good deal darker and more earnest now.

_Almost like _His_ voice_, she thought.

"I've lost so many things." He said. "Missed so many opportunities, the things that I will sacrifice to bring it all back…."

_Will_, not would.

There were no doubts.

"…are numerous. You know sometimes I wonder what life would've been like if I'd been afforded the opportunity that Leo had, to have been given the privilege of a life without the title of Glen. If the previous Glen had never found me and Lacie I might've been happy. Or I might've been dead depending on how you look at it. I wonder what it would be like to live without this tremendous weight of Baskerville and Glen on my shoulders. I wonder what it would be like to pretend." He paused and at first Lottie thought the conversation was through, but it wasn't. "You see I envy Leo for that. For a while he got to run away from all of this. He got to pretend this wasn't his burden and live the life he wanted to live. I've never had that chance. I've always been saddled with this weight. Here I am a hundred years later and I'm still saddled with it. The other Glens got to pass that burden on to someone else, but me? I still have it, Charlotte and I don't desire it. I spent a hundred years with my soul locked up. It was hell, all by myself. It was lonely. But lucky Leo got to be out here and do what he pleased. Even Gilbert was trapped in a way, no longer himself without his memories intact, serving under that Bastard's chain." Glen laughed bitterly. "You know Charlotte, Jack was a whore, a literal whore."

"I didn't know." Lottie said.

He smiled.

"You wouldn't, not looking into those green eyes and that golden hair with that genuine stupid smile plastered across his face. No one would suspect what a piece of trash he really is. That's why he could fool them, everyone. He's just a whore. Just like his mother. He's become the thing he hated." Glen's words stalled in his throat for a moment before he continued and Lottie couldn't help but wonder why. "How pathetic." He muttered. "I feel sorry for that poor chain stuck in that man's body. I'd imagine he's pretty messed up. I wonder how many times he's made an appearance unbeknownst to the B-Rabbit. How many times he's defiled Gilbert? God knows what he's done to him. That filthy little whore…"

Lottie wondered how many more times she would be forced to listen to men gush and worry over Gil while she was present in a sexual situation. Gilbert really must have been something else. She felt like laughing.

"And the other Glens," Glen shrugged. "I almost think they find this situation amusing, but I don't. I hate Leo Baskerville. I hate the freedom he's had, the escapism. What I wouldn't give to escape. Did you know that Leo and Elliot were more than friends?"

"No." Lottie responded.

"Apparently they were. From Leo's memories they were quite close, that's why he was willing to do just about anything to save him." Glen's pacing was a steady, short rhythm. "They were together physically quite often. It seems both Leo and Elliot had a bit of a whorish side to them. Especially Leo."

_Wow, Mater Glen really dislikes sexual promiscuity in men_, Lottie thought.

"You know when I died I had never…" The sentence trailed off like he was embarrassed.

_Oh_, Lottie thought, _then Master Glen was a virgin._

She couldn't exactly say that she was surprised. In fact she almost liked that part of him. He had probably thought that it was best so as not to drag anyone into the mess he saw as his life.

If he'd been a normal man she imagined he would not have had sex until he was married. He always treated women around him with respect, and she wondered if he saw sex as a filthy act and his desires as shameful. Maybe that's why he hated whorish men, for just taking what they wanted or perhaps more aptly what he wanted.

_But something has come undone_, Lottie thought. _Something is not right._

"I've been deprived of so many things, Charlotte. I don't want to be deprived anymore." He was suddenly right up on her, his breath in her ear, his left hand groping her breast and his right hand traveling down and down and down.

His body was pressed up against her back so tightly that she could feel his erection on her lower back. She felt her knees almost give out and she wanted to cry.

This wasn't her Glen.

This was what he had become and she didn't want what he had become, because what he had become would just use her like every other man in her life. She didn't want that version of him. She wanted what he had been.

"Do you have any objection Charlotte Baskerville?"

"No." she said, but she did.

She didn't want his hand grabbing there or his hand pressing _there_. She wanted him to stop. But she realized right then that she was a Baskerville and that one unchangeable fact was a bigger part of her than herself even. "Lottie" was just something living in "Baskerville". The thing that ultimately controlled her was "Baskerville" and it was heartbreaking because she finally had her answer.

"Now turn around Charlotte." He said and she did, two lustful eyes taking in her body as he cupped her breasts and then her face, pulling her into a kiss that felt as if it would suck the very life out of her, though he had looked like he was in conflict over whether or not he wanted to kiss her or her breasts.

When he pulled back she was shaking and gasping and she was sure he must've seen the terror visible on her face.

"Lord Gle-" She started but he stopped her.

"Don't call me that." He breathed, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling her closer. "Call me Oswald."

"Oswald." She said, having never heard the name before.

"Yes," Glen said, smiling, bending his head so that he could kiss each of her breasts, then he pulled back, just looking at her. "Charlotte, you are so beautiful." Glen said this as he reached over and brushed her rosy hair out of her face.

Lottie blushed.

"Thank you, Oswald." She said the name and it took effort and felt odd in her mouth.

_I really don't want this_, she thought.

"Now Charlotte, get down on your knees." He whispered to her.

He inspected her form kneeling before him.

"Lower." He said.

She raised her head.

"Excuse me, Lo- Oswald." She corrected nervously.

_Oh, he wants me to…_ Her thoughts trailed off at his words.

"I want you to lower your head to the floor, kneeling before me."

"Yes, Oswald." She said in a hushed whisper.

There were tears in her eyes as her forehead touched the floor. She waited, holding her breath as she listened to his footsteps pad on the carpet, first in front of her, then behind. Then they stopped behind her, her breath hitching from tears and her anticipation at what he was going to do.

She felt the air around her move and his breath ghost over her back before he landed a quick kiss to her spine, a hand on either side of her upper back.

It was a humiliating and very servile position. Her head to the ground, her arms flat and to her side on the floor and her legs folded up beneath her, toes and feet peeking out from behind her. She was completely naked so her back and behind were also exposed.

_If someone was going to kill me, now would be a good time_, she thought shamefully, upset that her mind had become so fixated on death, murder and combat that her head would go there even in this particular predicament.

She waited for something else to happen, but it never did. After he retracted his lips, then his hands, he told her very sternly to get up.

"Yes, Oswald."

-M. Palovna


	2. Chapter 2: Oswald

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts nor do I hold any rights to it.

Glen wasn't sure what was happening to him lately. Ever since he'd gained control of Leo's body he'd felt such a surge of emotion.

He was mad and angry and confused and hurt and resentful, oh so resentful. He had felt like he was in pieces before but now he felt in control, aware, once again shouldering everyone's burdens, cleaning up messes.

He had finally been able to get a clear glance at his old master, the former Glen, and his mentor. To think that there'd been a time where he looked upon that man with such awe and amazement…

He had respected him and now he hated him.

And he hated all the other stupid Glens and he hated stupid selfish Jack who had caused all of this with the blind ease of an idiot, all for Lacie. Pretty Lacie, troublesome Lacie, Lacie who could be the most caring individual in the world and then stab you and laugh about it. His sister Lacie. The Child of Ill Omen Lacie. Stupid Lacie.

As much as he hated Jack and his blind love, manipulations and lies and devotion, he almost hated Lacie and Revis more.

Especially Revis.

Jack was stupid and blind and annoying and a whore but Revis, Revis was the man who had raised him and Lacie and he had looked up to him and yet Revis, Revis had turned around and _screwed_ his little sister, impregnated her and then had him throw her into the Abyss and then had the nerve to act all surprised and shocked when Alice appeared a few days later.

Glen hated him.

He saw Revis as the corrupter and mastermind of everything.

Sure he took them and saved them from a life on the streets but did he really rescue them? Or just throw them into an endless cycle of hurt and hell? To Glen it didn't seem like being rescued. It was like drowning.

And Lacie?

What could he say about Lacie?

He had loved Lacie. If he was being honest with himself he had probably loved her more than some would deem appropriate for a brother to love a sister.

Then Jack had come and Revis had inserted himself into things, encouraging Jack like Jack was some toy for his amusement.

It had bothered Oswald.

Sure at first he was disturbed and annoyed by Jack but slowly he had grown to care about Jack and considered him his friend, his one and only friend. And Jack cared about Lacie and that made Oswald care about him. Watching Jack and Lacie together made him really happy. And though in the beginning he had found himself jealous of Jack he slowly began to think about the three of them….as the three of them together, as a whole.

And all the while there had been Revis, nurturing them and encouraging them and recruiting Lacie in his plan to 'make the Abyss not lonely anymore', a trap for his young, vulnerable sister knowing that she'd sympathize, and then Revis telling him how he'd become Glen and then him being forced to throw Lacie into the Abyss because that, that was good and right and Lacie was evil and a child of ill omen.

And then, after Lacie died, Revis telling Jack those things. He knew what would happen. He knew what Jack would do and yet still he did it.

Thinking back on it, it was like Revis knew what the outcome would be since the very beginning, like he had some special information, working towards some goal.

If Glen had been in a better place he might've stopped to wonder why or to what end, but now?

He no longer cared.

He now hated all the people that he had loved.

Everyone was annoying.

He loathed people.

They were disgusting.

He hated that he had to be in a human's body, Leo's body, a boy who had been given the opportunity that he would never have: To live the life that he wanted to live, to escape from 'Lord Glen' and Baskerville and the Abyss.

Yes, Glen _envied _Leo, but he had his body now and he could do as he pleased and right now what he wanted was to spread Charlotte out on his bed and bury himself in her and Charlotte was a beautiful woman naked before him and he could feel himself responding just at the sight of her petite body and her full breasts and lips.

He wondered how long he would be able to hold out. He didn't want to be a disappointment.

He reached his hand out and grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing before releasing and rubbing his thumb over her nipple.

She shuddered.

Yes, all he wanted was to lose himself just this once and not be Glen, just be Oswald. Then after this he would go on and parade around as 'Lord Glen' cleaning up everyone else's little messes. He was always destined to do this. Lacie and Revis used to joke about it. Ah, but now? Now it was true.

He pressed his lips into Charlotte's.

She was no Lacie and she was no Jack but she would do. And besides he wasn't even in _his_ body anymore, so what did it matter? Wasn't it about time for him to let go of the past?

_Mhmm, but I can't. It just keeps dragging me in._

Finally he broke from the kiss and swept her legs out from under her, carrying her the few short steps to the bed before throwing her onto it rather unceremoniously.

She gasped slightly, looking around the bed as if she'd been thrown on some foreign surface.

As she had no clothes on he began taking off his, loosening and taking off his tie before losing patience. He threw the tie down, pouncing on her. He leaned over her and kissed her, then he kissed her breasts and her stomach as he worked his way down, spreading her legs and kissing her inner thighs before licking and then sucking her clitoris.

Her gasp came out choked and surprised as her hands immediately went to his newly chopped hair. She was stuttering and he had to admit he kind of liked hearing her stutter. Then he pressed his tongue into her and sucked harder.

Now she was trembling and gripping at his hair harder, pulling and twisting and there was a choked sob of "Lord Gle-" quickly replaced by "Oswald."

He withdrew his tongue just to force it in deeper and harder. All of a sudden she seemed everywhere. He could taste her, smell her, feel her. He was_ in_ her. She was everywhere.

Again she called out "Oswald" louder and there was the most delightful strained pitch to her voice as she cried out.

Glen had to suppress the smile that was coming to his lips.

Had Jack ever been here before? Had he ever made her cry out like that?

He doubted it.

Charlotte had always rebuffed Jack's advances and he loved that about her. Lacie certainly never had.

He also doubted that she had ever been had by his Master and for some reason that thought made him terribly happy.

He couldn't be certain but he was pretty sure that Lacie had been with Jack. Had he seen it with his own eyes? No, but he could tell. They lingered together. They exchanged their secret smiles. They touched.

Sure Jack may have blushed and looked away but he knew his sister and he could see she wanted Jack and if she wanted Jack she would have Jack. After all Jack wasn't that strong. Few men could resist the temptations of his sister. And though Oswald had tried to supervise Lacie, Lacie was clever and sneaky and more than capable of ditching him if her heart _so _desired, which it often did.

Lacie had been with many men before Jack and this had bothered Oswald to no end but for some reason he didn't begrudge Jack this, in fact the thought of Jack and Lacie being together made him quite happy.

He just had one lingering thought: Why couldn't he be involved, too?

It seemed he was forever on the outside of things, walking alongside everyone but being passed on by life all the same.

He continued to lick and suck and prod until Charlotte came with a low startled groan and he tasted the sudden influx of juices in his mouth. He kissed her clitoris and she continued trembling as he moved up, kissing up her abdomen to her breasts, then her shoulders, her neck and finally her mouth. He kissed her violently, enjoying the fact that he was in control, the fact that she was so malleable, that she was trembling beneath his body, that he could take this girl and make her this way with something so simple.

He pulled back, noting her flushed face and glazed, startled eyes looking up at him.

She started stuttering and trembling even more. Her face had to be burning.

"Lord Gl-Os,"

Oswald tensed at the name but she continued.

"Oswald, Oswald, Oswald I-" She had unconsciously put her hands on his shoulders not harshly just firmly, with an even strength.

The moment she realized this she grew even redder.

"I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, to-did I get something on you?" She started, beginning to rub at a perceived spot on his collar. "Oswald, I'm so so-"

He took her wrists and pinned them over head.

"-rry." She finished.

"Charlotte, listen to me. You are beautiful and what I want more than anything is to use you and for you to use me in the exact same fashion. Do you understand? I _need_ this Charlotte. I need to…just lose myself for a little while in this. So just let me use you, just like this." He took her wrists, one in each hand, spreading them apart from each other and pinning them hard into the pillow behind her.

She moaned and he kissed her neck.

"Okay? And you can use me too, after this. Okay? It'll just be meaningless. Will you let me do this, Charlotte?"

She looked up at him and he smiled, kissing her neck, sucking slightly.

If he had looked at her in that moment he would've seen her eyes wide open, tears barely contained as her lips almost parted. She looked like she was about to scream. But she didn't.

She bit her lip.

"Yes, Oswald." She said, letting out another groan that quickly became a rolling moan as she felt one of his hands leave her wrist and continue down her body, groping down the side of her until he reached her hips and then he slid his hand between them, slipping one finger into her.

He slid it in and out for a while before withdrawing it.

He figured that now was the time to start removing clothes.

He pulled back off her and began unbuttoning his shirt on the other side of the bed.

He was so excited he was literally fumbling with the buttons.

She just laid there, eyes wide open, staring up at the canopy, chest rising and falling with each breath. Her left hand went up to touch her chest and for a second Glen got distracted just watching her as that hand hovered over her breast, drawing his attention there.

He wanted to go over there and suck on her breast and the fingers that had brushed against it. He wanted to spread her legs wide and plant himself in her. He wanted to hear her make more sounds that she lacked the strength to hold back.

He realized that what he really wanted was to see her helpless and undone and then he wanted to be made to feel the exact same way.

All his life, the part of it where he'd had a body that was his own, when he'd been Oswald the servant and big brother and best friend and then newly christened 'Lord Glen', a master, leader and murderer, all that time he'd been perfectly done, proper, respectable, beyond reproach. He was well behaved. He did as he was asked. He didn't make mistakes and he tried to live up to the role he was supposed to play. He was a good boy. He played by the rules.

He adored and followed and obeyed Revis, his Master.

He tried to watch over and protect his little sister, Lacie. In fact there had been a time when that's what his life had centered on, though he supposed that in the end he had failed miserably at that.

Though he knew he wasn't exactly the most sociable or cheerful friend he did try to be a good friend and he thought that he'd done a pretty good job of that or at least he thought that Jack thought that. But he was being played from the very beginning and he figured that if Jack had been a genuine man he probably would've still failed the moment he threw Lacie into the Abyss.

Two failures.

Then, when he became Glen, he had thought, _yes, maybe Lacie is gone, maybe Jack secretly hates me but I can be the best Glen possible. I can do this right at least. It will not all have been for not._

Then there was the appearance of that child, Alice, from the Abyss and he thought_, this can be my chance to re-do things, to fix the wrongs I committed with Lacie. I won't have to throw this child into the Abyss._

Even though it was like a knife cutting through him every time he looked at her, still he tried.

In the end a city fell into the Abyss, Glen's soul, _his _soul, was sealed away for 100 years. His soul was not passed onto the next vessel. The Baskervilles were forced to act without a leader and that's not considering the countless others who were simply thrown into the Abyss, forced to claw their way out, much like the girl who lay on his bed for instance, and the state of the Abyss, a once golden world was thrown into turmoil. And Alice, Alice killed herself and was forced, through a strange set of events that Glen still struggled to wrap his brain around, to stay by the B-Rabbit, Jack's body's, side having deluded herself into believing that those powers that_ he_ held were really hers.

Everything he'd ever set out to do or accomplish he had failed at, miserably, when he'd tried so hard, done everything he was told, when he'd been so good.

When Glen looked back on it he realized that out of all his time living he never actually had a day of _fun_ in his whole life, so obsessed was he with being _good_ and doing the _right _things.

He had always been so straight-laced and up right, and responsible and on his guard. He never slacked. He never disobeyed. When he was told to jump, he only asked how high. Though he may sound arrogant he knew that he truly had been impeccable in every regard. He never had fun. He never did what he wanted. He didn't have any of the normal happy experiences that most people expect to have on their life's journey.

And he was fine with that so long as he accomplished the goals set for him and the people around him were pleased.

So he pushed aside urges and desires and wants. At parties he always declined invitations to dance in order to stay by his Master's side in the event he should need him, even when Revis told him to go on he didn't as a sign of his unflinching loyalty and sense of duty.

On the rare occasions that he did socialize he only did so in order to gain useful information that would help the Baskervilles and Revis in some way.

Glen hadn't been an indulgent person and he rarely asked for anything. All his life he had worked hard and when a shock came his way, which it did on plenty of occasions, he handled it. He had never once let go, never once really came undone and indulged himself in something that he wanted.

Back then he had thought all of that sacrificing was for something but now he knew better, now he knew it wasn't.

He had already decided long ago that if he was ever given the chance to do things over again he would and he'd do the exact opposite of what he'd done before.

And so that's what he was doing.

He was going to go back in time and murder, sooner, the little sister that he had long ago vowed to protect and he had half a mind to do it brutally, with all the cruelty that the world had shown him (and he had the shameful thought that knowing Lacie, she'd probably enjoy it).

He would end Jack and Alice and the B-Rabbit.

Instead of admiring and respecting his Master, Revis, he now hated him. He wanted to punch him, knee him in the groin, make him disappear, and he had half a mind to do these things if only for a deep down animal fear of the more silent, shadowy Glens and their retaliation, though he doubted that their rotted old souls would give a damn.

In all honesty he wanted them to all go away, including him. He wanted _Glen_, the massive existence to _go away_.

But he had other things he wanted to do first and it could wait.

He wasn't anywhere near finished with his plans yet. But one of those things he wanted to do was come undone, to play in the dirt and the rain till it became mud and he was sick and just let go. He wanted to not put his toys up for once. He wanted to know what it was like _not_ to be the one cleaning up the messes.

Leo had gotten that opportunity right?

So why not him.

Glen's shirt was off now and then his shoes and his socks, his belt, his trousers and relief flooded him as the pressure on his cock was finally relieved and it was able to stand unhindered.

It was strange looking down at it and knowing that it was not yours but at this point Glen hardly cared as he made his way to Charlotte, taking his thumb between where he knee caps touched and gently prying them apart, his hand moving up her thigh so that he could spread her beautiful, soft, long legs apart, his hands eventually resting on her bottom, squeezing her slightly.

Glen was relieved that the boy's penis was as proportionate as it was.

When he'd first gained control of the body, and then began to have an awareness of himself, he'd been slightly worried that it would be…smaller, but it was actually quite large, being both thick and long. It had actually shocked Glen a bit.

If he was being completely honest with himself, Leo was better endowed than he had been.

Charlotte gasped as she felt Glen's erection brush up against her thigh.

For a moment she just stared at it.

The only thing that stopped her from staring at it was the sharp feeling of two slightly  
cool fingers (now they were cool?) entering her and then spreading her.

She shuddered and gripped at the sheets.

Glen just smiled at the slightly tense expression that wrinkled Charlotte's pretty little brow so beautifully.

He leaned down and kissed her.

She looked up at him with something approaching wonder on her face as her blush deepened. Their eyes locked for a minute.

Then Glen, experimentally and because he knew he'd have to eventually, spread her even wider and she gasped, her eyes screwing shut.

She moaned and he smiled slightly at her warmth as she closed around him and tried to tighten around his two fingers. Glen fumbled a little he knew, both from inexperience and just the feeling of awkwardness with such a large cock to work with. At this point he was sure that he was also blushing.

He managed to get himself partially inside but he could feel Charlotte trembling beneath him.

He closed his eyes and pushed in.

He heard Charlotte's sharp intake of breath and then felt both of her hands gripping at his arms as he began thrusting. She immediately started moving her own hips, perhaps in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure she had to be feeling.

Though Glen was aware of all this it was somehow lost on him.

Behind closed eyes he could see figures in a murky place with reproachful eyes, or maybe it was just silent eyes. He couldn't tell at this point.

This place was the dark puddle of a mind that all of the Glens shared.

Glen hated this place.

He wanted it to go away.

He missed the time when he was younger and this place hadn't existed in him, but slowly, little by little, it had seeped in, until it enveloped everything, until there was only_ this_ place in him.

Physically Glen could feel the warmth and the wetness of Charlotte as she stretched around him, taking him in deeper and deeper and Glen had to admit, he was a little smug, happy that every time he thrust she would gasp before letting out a pained moan, the recoil on her face, her chest bright red, trembling, for some reason it made him extremely happy that he was large enough to get that kind of reaction, that here, with a woman he was sure was no virgin, he could carve out a place for himself right inside of her. Glen knew that he'd never once had a place that was his own, but here, right now, with her, he had a place and he loved it dearly.

He bent down to her, covering her body with his and he began to kiss her neck, suck on it, as her now damp hair seemed to fill the air with the smell of everything that was hers, which was soon mingled with yet another smell that he realized was his own.

Oh the perils of and pleasures of possessing another's body!

He could feel her hands on his back trying to resist the urge to scrap and claw at it as the tips of her fingers began to strengthen their grip. He could feel her breasts and now hard nipples pressed against her chest as she writhed beneath him, her slightly sharp hip bones grinding into his own with every repressed scream as he hit his stride. Her breath was hot and moist and raced across his shoulder, through his spine and settling on his ass which was taunt and tingling with sensations.

Soon enough he felt her self-control start to slip as her nails began to grip and claw and dig at his back and she absently mouthed his shoulder, biting slightly. He began licking and biting her ear.

But his mind was somewhere else, in a darkened corner with a floor of water that reflected nothing but blackness.

Spread out amongst this space were the Glens, who remained aloof, scattered, incomplete.

They never said anything or did anything.

Sometimes they'd look at him as if they were accusing him, as if he'd care.

He was past caring about their veiled looks and raised eyebrows. He was_ long_ past it.

But then there was Revis. Revis also hadn't said anything in a while.

No, No words from him, just that halfway smirk, his hair hanging to one side, silent lavender eyes fixed on him. Glen wanted to yell at him, slap him, ask him why, but for some reason he'd done nothing.

And then there was the vessel, Leo, curled up in a corner of the water room floor, bangs in his eyes, arms resting on his knees, curled up in the fetal position. But then he looked up and Glen couldn't help but smile.

Did he have any idea what he was now doing with his body to this girl who, in life, Leo hardly had known?

He had to know, the way his eyes widened in realization, dark purple and gold eyes that Glen now owned.

Could he still feel the sensations that coursed through his body now? Glen wondered.

"Yes." Glen said in his mind, smiling cruelly at the young man's form down on the floor, looking down at him from his considerable height. "It's my body now. And I'm going to do whatever I want with it." He had taken a few slow strides over to where Leo was.

Leo just glared at him slightly. He looked like he wanted to say something. He struggled with it but eventually he just laid his head back down.

"Good! Good! Accept it. You've fallen. You're _never_ going to get back up again. Never. Once you've fallen you can't get back up, besides under the weight of your sins…" He bent down so that he was on Leo's level.

Leo looked at him.

It was clear that he wanted so badly to talk, to say something, but he said nothing.

"What you did to that poor boy, what was his name? Elliot. You certainly dragged him under with the weight of _your_ sins. You practically killed him yourself. If only you'd acknowledged us this never would've happened. But you're selfish, aren't you? You just had to have your way and now look what you've done." He shook his head. "You're disgusting. That boy should never have died, but because of you…" Glen wanted to spit, he was so angry.

Leo's eyes radiated with hateful tears. He looked like he wanted to throw a punch, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh on our young friend? Hmm, Oswald?"

Glen recoiled at his former Master's voice. He had turned around to see Revis walking toward him.

"Now you talk?" Glen said.

"Oh Oswald, whatever happened to Master?"

"You betrayed me you bastard. This is all just one big game to you isn't it?"

"Isn't it to you?" Revis asked.

"No, it's not."

"Then you're trying to change all of these things why? For what reasons?"

"To make things better, to restore the Abyss, to…"

"To appease yourself, to feed your own ego, because this is all a game to you? Hmm, Oswald? To my eyes you resemble nothing so much as a chess player desperately trying to back pedal. You're no saint Oswald but you're also no sinner. What the hell is it you're trying to do?"

"I could ask you the same thing, but you aren't going to give me any explanation and we both know it, so I'm certainly not going to give you any."

"Very well Oswald, but do you really think torturing poor Leo over there is going to help, especially when you're chastising him over what you chastise yourself for."

"Shut up!" Glen whispered.

"It's not your fault what happened to Lacie and Jack, Oswald."

"No." Glen glared fiercely at him. _"That was your fault."_

Revis smiled and shrugged.

"Huh, well maybe but is what you're doing now really going to help you? The way I see it your just torturing Leo and toying with that exquisite young girl spread out beneath you. It's rather pointless, wouldn't you agree?"

Glen smirked.

"No." He said firmly. "I can't see a damn thing that's wrong with any of my actions. As far as Charlotte we're just using each other. It's meaningless and she agreed to it. So it's fine. And as far as Leo," He looked at the boy on the ground like he was trash. "He shirked his responsibility. He has to be held accountable for that. You can't just put on a pair of glasses, grow your bangs out longer and run off into the sunset with your Master/Lover. You can't just run away and ignore things. I never go to. It isn't fair. What? I mean you don't like the world around you so you just bury your head in the sand and screw your Master, really? And a man at that. In my time there was a name for men like you…"

_I wanted Jack_, Glen thought. _I never acted on it. I behaved accordingly. I was a good little boy. I suppressed my urges and feigned that I didn't have any. I wanted Lacie so badly sometimes I nearly bit off my tongue from want. Once again I suppressed my desires. All I've ever done is conform and want and now I've got nothing and neither one of them. All I've ever done is deprive myself. And I did it for nothing, jokes on me, Ha-Ha, while Leo at least got to _live _a life and doesn't even have to concern himself with the mess. What the hell's so special about him?_

"It's not about me. It's about others." Glen said, outwardly.

"Is that so?" Revis sighed.

Somewhere a droplet of water could be heard dripping and echoing off of the darkness.

Somewhere else Glen could hear his own breath sharpening as legs wrapped around his back pulling him in deeper, warmth contracting around him, clenching tighter and tighter. His own groans filled his head.

"Tell me Oswald, are you happy with what you've chosen?"

Glen was frozen by sensation and hatred.

At first he felt unable to speak physically. He thought he had words. He thought he had a desire to voice them, but soon that faded on the spot giving way to a feeling of emptiness and he no longer wished to speak to these ghosts in his head as he took definitive steps away, opened his eyes, but those voices were still there. Or rather Revis's.

"You're just using her Oswald. This is only hurting her. Surely you can see it. Surely you much know how much she likes you. Even I noticed it back then, much to my chagrin. To use her like this is wrong. And I have never known you to be a cruel man in the past Oswald."

'You never knew me at all', he wanted to scream but he was ignoring him. That was his official stance and so that was all.

He felt himself come in Lottie, heard her groan beneath him, almost as if she were in pain but he didn't care, in fact he almost _liked_ the groans. They took away the feeling of emptiness, seemed to fill it, or was the emptiness only getting deeper? He didn't know.

"Oswald," That annoyingly persistent voice came again. "You know that she doesn't want this, so why are you doing it?"

"She said that she did." And he could've sworn that he heard Leo's voice, meaning that he had spoken out loud in addition to in his head and he hadn't meant to.

"Oswald, you are Glen. She is a Baskerville. You know as well as I do that she had no real choice in the matter. What you are doing is as good as a rape."

Glen smiled.

"A rape? A rape? How can you say that when it's just as you mentioned earlier? She likes me. A hundred years ago she liked me and she searched for me and she found me."

"Yes, she did. Because she's a Baskerville and you are Glen. And that's exactly right Oswald. She liked _you_. She wanted _you_. _You_ meant something to her. And now_ you_, my dear boy, are using her. And I'm not quite sure if you've noticed but you're not the boy you were a hundred years ago."

"I may not be in the same body bu-" He growled.

Revis cut in.

"No, Oswald you are not in the same body, and you are also not the same man. You simply are not the same."

"Oh, Fuck you." Oswald screamed in his mind.

Leo was in a corner in the darkness, head rested on knees and hands over his ears. He was trembling slightly.

"I am fine." Glen was looking at Revis who just stared serenely at him and the other Glens just looked at him fearfully.

Leo didn't lift his head.

_This isn't like me_, Glen thought. _I don't normally lose it like this._

"I am fine." He said a little calmer. "But tell me who the hell are _you_ to judge me? Lacie was a Baskerville, right?" He said in a hiss. "And you felt fine taking advantage of her."

"Oh, Lacie wasn't exactly one to follow my commands and she hardly was eager to have sex with me." Revis said.

"So _you_ raped her?"

"No. We both had our own needs to fulfill and aims to achieve in that instance. We had our purposes."

Glen laughed.

"Fine. Consider this the same."

"But it's not, Oswald. Both you and I know that."

"Alright, fine. Charlotte doesn't want it. I'm fine with that. I want it. That's more than enough reason."

"I never knew that you were such a selfish man."

"And when were _you _not?" Glen laughed derisively, shaking from his anger. "What you did to me and to Lacie and to Jack, it was _wrong_! You screwed us all over. Why?" He yelled desperately, turning into a desperate child now.

He needed answers.

"Everything has a reason."

"Oh, really. What was your reason?"

"I can't tell you."

Glen shook from his anger. He was in this now.

"You can't tell me. Really? You can't tell me why Jack is such a mess, or why Lacie did the_ stupid_ things that she did or why now_ I_ am like_ this_?" His chest was heaving.

He calmed for a second.

"I don't think Lacie would ever consent to sleep with you." Oswald said.

"Really? Well, she did. Tell me Oswald, this wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that Lacie never slept with you? Would it?"

Oswald's face flushed and he hit Revis, extremely happy to know that you could feel flesh on flesh in this mysterious realm of the mind and that, with a satisfying plink!, Revis's teeth could be knocked right out of his mouth.

Revis fell into the water clutching his mouth as he felt the blood dripping out of it.

The other Glens watched on horrified and Leo, who had lifted up his head, just looked on passively as if none of this concerned him.

Revis looked up, rubbing his jaw as Glen, momentarily, felt guilty for punching his Master.

"Maybe the real reason you hate Leo," Revis said in a soft menacing voice. "Is that he actually had balls enough to go after Elliot, when you never did with Jack…"

Glen flushed again, his teeth gritting as he landed a kick at Revis's stomach and then his groin.

Revis lied there in the water curled up into a ball.

Glen felt as if he were vibrating from his anger.

"I hate you." He hissed, bending down so that Revis could really hear him. "I hate you." He said getting up. "I hate all of you!" He thundered as he walked away, at last successfully shutting them out.

There was Lottie lying underneath him. Her hands were up at her chest, gathered, like she was panicking or trying to cover herself. And all of a sudden, for reasons completely unknown to Glen, he really wanted to hurt someone, badly, physically and Baskervilles didn't scar easily nor die easily and Lottie looked so beautiful when she was uncomfortable and moaning and in pain. And Glen now knew that what he had been feeling before wasn't him being filled, it was him growing more and more empty.

He dislodged from her and collapsed beside her, gasping. Lottie reached a hand down, trying to cover herself more as she turned to her side, curling up in an attempt to hide.

After a moment of gasping Glen turned to his side and kissed her shoulder, reaching down and prying her hands away from her sex, placing his hand there instead.

She whimpered.

He patted her there and twirled her pubic hair before sticking two fingers in her and hooking them.

Again she let out a small cry.

"Charlotte," He said to her. "Don't cry." He lifted up so that his lips brushed her earlobe. "Charlotte, you wouldn't by any chance have a knife secreted away somewhere on your clothing, your dress perhaps?"

There was a moment's pause and then she nodded.

"There's a pocket for one on the lower hem of my dress. There's another one hidden in a little holster up my sleeve." She said trying to keep her voice even.

She didn't exactly succeed, but she didn't exactly fail either.

Glen began to move his finger rhythmically inside her, slipping one finger out so that it could brush lightly against Lottie's clitoris, eliciting a soft moan from her as she fought not to rock her hips.

"Charlotte, I want you to go get the sharpest and longest of the knives for me."

Lottie obeyed as Glen's (or rather Leo's) fingers left her and she sat up. She started to gather up the sheets in order to cover herself but Glen grabbed them first.

She looked back at him, her rose pink eyes unreadable.

"Go on. There's no need to cover yourself." Glen encouraged.

"Yes, Oswald." She said as she walked to her rumpled clothes and rummaged until she extracted a six inch knife with a glistening silver blade.

It had a dark mahogany hilt with inlaid mother of pearl flowers and butterflies cascading and creeping all up and down the hilt.

It startled Glen for some reason.

He remembered seeing her with it a hundred years ago. She had been particularly happy with it, something that the metal smith had made just for her, apparently very taken with her. She had been thrilled and had proceeded to show Fang and Lily her dagger before running off to show Doug.

Glen had witnessed all of this from under a tree, the girl's lilting voice carrying on the wind and causing him to open his eyes to observe what she was so thrilled about.

Later on Jack had seen it and made a comment about how beautiful it was 'but not nearly as beautiful as its possessor'. Lottie had called him indecent and proceeded to threaten him with the dagger's blade.

It all came back so clearly and fiercely to Glen. Everything, the sunny day beyond, the shade of the walkway's overhang, the feeling of concrete underneath him as he sat awkwardly beside Jack on the brick and concrete balustrade.

Lottie stood before Jack showing off her little treasure, nervously glancing at him every time she thought he wouldn't notice, and Jack's attention was taken in by the glistening object or an idea or something other that might occupy Jack's sun beam mind.

At the time Glen had thought he was living a miserable existence.

He had killed his very own sister, how could he deserve happiness?

He was faced with a young girl who looked just like his sister. He had been caring for her, but he'd been so conflicted.

Was it a punishment of sorts from the Abyss, for what he'd done to Lacie or a second chance, a way to atone?

He didn't know yet. He just knew that at the time, things had seemed bad. Very bad. The worst that they could possibly get. But oh how wrong he was.

Back then there was still some light. It was a relatively peaceful time in the  
world. He had what he believed to be Jack's friendship. Oh how wrong he'd been yet again .My wasn't his judgment off.

And then it dawned on him.

He really had been a different person back then.

He had been _Oswald_. Just Oswald.

But now, a hundred years later, he had a different body and his soul had become murky and smeared. He was no longer_ just_ Oswald. He wasn't quite Glen either, though he wondered if he'd inherited some of "Glen's" personality. Maybe that was why his soul was so murky, inky.

He also realized that he had a lot of regrets. Those regrets had changed him for the worst. He had become so fixated on outside sources, expectancy and duty that he had thoroughly lost himself.

_But I will not fall_, he thought darkly. _Because once you fall, you can never rise again._

Yes, that was the difference between himself and Leo, and himself now and himself 100 years ago.

Falling.

He thought that his "self" from a hundred years ago might've been given over to falling, to having enough and just letting go if he'd been given the chance, so tightly wound was he that the idea of collapse could seem a pleasing thing at times.

But not now.

He was stronger now, in his own way. But with this odd strength there was an emptiness and something that he found to be a strange, insatiable, craving of sorts for pain and violence. Contemplating it, seeing it, experiencing it, living in it became agreeable ideas to him.

Even blood no longer bothered him.

He wanted to laugh thinking back on it. A time in his youth when it was everything he could do to clean Lacie's wounds after a group of villagers had thrown rocks at her and not vomit from the sight. Blood terrified him. He had nightmares of it as a child. It haunted him into adulthood.

Having to_ drink_ and ingest the chain's blood as he became Glen was thought to him, at the time, to be an insurmountable obstacle, a death like feat. Every time he fought back nausea and flashes of nightmares he'd harbored as a child. Dread consumed him.

But not anymore.

He'd lost some of his sensitivity to it after a few years as a Baskerville.

As Glen though, he'd been purged of it.

Blood had become a passing and meaningless thing. Not sacred or scary, not a life source nor sign of death. It lost all of its horrific, grotesque awe inspiring power after that. And on the night that the Tragedy happened he found that he was completely cured from what he now saw as his weak little malady.

He walked through blood soaked carpeted halls filled with mangled corpses. He watched as blood dripped and pooled from his sword and the weapons of the other Baskervilles. The only thing that had truly scared him then was losing people.

But now it seemed he was cured of that little malady as well.

Lottie settled on the bed and Glen gestured for her to lie down on the other side of the bed, as he was now on hers.

Wordlessly she obeyed and wordlessly, his body propped up with an elbow, he took the knife in his hand, pondering its blade and fingering the inlaid mother of pearl butterflies and flowers on the hilt.

He smiled and lingered on the butterflies, his finger tip tracing the intricate lines with satisfaction.

Yes, a hole had opened up in Glen Baskerville and it needed to be filled with something lest that empty hole and feeling deep within grow till he truly felt nothing, lost all control.

"Charlotte," He purred, sitting up. "Spread your legs."

-M. Palovna


	3. Chapter 3: Leo

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts nor do I hold any rights to it.

Leo wasn't Leo any more.

That's what he told himself now.

He may not have been able to disappear completely, locked as he was in this strange mind realm, and he may not have been able to forget who Leo had once been, the life he had lead, the people (or rather person) that he had cared about, but he could become as close to nothing as he could. He could become passive. He could sit, respond to nothing and no one and observe, an emotionless, blank intellect meant only to curl in on itself and observe.

That was it.

That was what Leo was now, though he really didn't think of himself in terms of a person with a name, just something that existed.

_He_ was no more so how could he exist without_ him_, go on living and breathing and doing stuff.

He couldn't.

That was that.

There was no hope left to him.

And so Leo had given in to Glen's incessant attempts to take control. He let Glen have the body. It meant little to him now.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by but now he couldn't even remember what it was like to be in his body, what it felt like to have arms and legs that moved _out there_. He was just an existence to witness and log the various events.

_Like a datebook_, he thought blankly.

The mind realm was a relatively quiet place. No one really talked to him. After all, the noisy one had been Glen (Oswald the others called him). Now that Oswald was mostly moving about with his body things were considerably quieter. None of the other Glens bothered him and that was fine with Leo. It was just like his life had been before _him_, just minus the books.

That was fine, too. He didn't deserve any distractions.

Every now and then though the Glen that seemed to go by the name Revis would just look over at him, as if out of pity, Leo didn't like this, to be acknowledged, and so he made sure to avoid eye contact lest the man should decide to come over and strike up a conversation with him. Leo didn't want to talk.

Right now the more elusive and shadowy of the Glens were dispersing, walking around, water making distant splashing sounds with each step. They seemed in deep thought.

Revis was still on the ground, hand-on jaw as if it was still bothering him but he suffered from no real damage. In this dimension it seemed lasting physical damage was near impossible to inflict, because if he could've Leo would have done it to himself. But that would've been pointless, so he didn't.

Instead he closed his eyes tight and covered his ears and curled up in a tight little ball, willing himself to disappear. But he just couldn't. There was one thing getting in his way: The sound of the incessant pacing of one of the Glens.

If he'd been his old self he would've told the Glen to quit it with the pacing already, but he didn't do that kind of thing now. He just sat, trying to ignore it, failing miserably, just to come to the conclusion that perhaps it'd be better to open his eyes and see what Oswald was doing.

All Leo had to do was think it and look straight ahead and it happened. He could witness what Oswald was doing, the things he saw and heard and said and Leo would watch all of it blankly, passively, trying to think of himself as simply an existence for watching and cataloguing things. It was surprisingly easy, though sometimes it scared him because it felt exactly like he was watching someone else live out his life, which he supposed, in a way, was exactly what he was doing. It was strange to see things as if you were in your body, your voice speaking in the background, your hands working away at some task, footsteps on the ground, your environment moving around you. It all felt so real, but those movements are not yours, and those words are not yours, and even that gait does not belong to you.

It was so surreal.

And every now and then Oswald would be speaking to someone and they would look into his eyes, and it was done with such intensity that it made Leo feel that those people in that world could also see him, too.

It disturbed him.

It scared him.

He wondered if this was the fate that he'd been trying to escape all along.

_Funny_, he thought darkly. _I still ended up here in the end. _

Yes, here in a room surrounded by darkness and water and dark murky Glens all with their own secret regrets, brooding. It was hell, but it was a hell he felt that he deserved because of how he had wrecked Elliot's life. Elliot who he had loved above all else was gone, dead because of him. It was unbearable.

He could see that Oswald had a rather nice knife in his hand and he was gazing at it and grazing his fingertips over the butterflies and flowers that were inlaid in it.

He seemed to be surrounded by fabric, sheets more like.

He was rising now.

He was in bed.

He was hovering above a girl who looked frightened, her long lashed eye lids wide open and her rosy pink hair-

Leo's heart nearly stopped.

He knew this girl.

Somehow he knew her and then it hit him. She had been the girl who had kidnapped Oz at Lutwidge. Leo had even shot her trying to defend_ him_. Leo's mind, which had been rather listless and dying, was now buzzing with unwanted thoughts and feelings.

He couldn't hear Oswald's voice (his voice) through all the chatter in his mind, but he could see, what was the girl's name? Lottie. He could see Lottie's huge, almost pleading, eyes staring up and seemingly through Oswald to Leo.

That gaze scared him.

He didn't like being acknowledged like that. An important part of him disappearing completely was him not being acknowledged and yet she was doing it. Leo thought about closing his eyes and shutting everything out once more when he saw the image shift, meaning Oswald had turned his head.

Lottie was naked. That much was plain to see, but it appeared that Oswald was now running that blade along Lottie's skin, cutting her arms slightly, nothing too deep, just flesh wounds, then one curved slice on her stomach then down to her thigh and leg, blood gathering in thin little stripes all over her body.

Every now and then Oswald would tell her shhh! And that it was all just fine. He told her not to cry, that it would all be alright. Leo found it so weird to hear his own voice coo such things with such an eerie calm and almost kindness that haunted his voice, which under Oswald's control now sounded deeper, a little richer somehow.

He heard crying in the background but the girl made no move to stop Oswald. She didn't seem to kick or fight back at all. She just winced and cried, though Leo couldn't see her face.

Oswald was at her feet now.

He sliced her toes and then sucked on them. Then he took her long leg and lifted it straight up, taking this moment to cut the backs of her knees all the way around, before lowering her legs, rubbing cruelly at the slices. His eyes slid up her body and Leo finally saw the girl's face again, tears streaming down her cheeks, trying to bite back the sobs coming from her mouth. The tears seemed to be perpetually welling and spilling down her cheeks. Her eyes were pleading desperately with his but Oswald seemed unwilling to listen and he bent down sucking on Lottie's nipples until he suddenly pulled back and took the tip of his blade and ran it over her nipples.

Lottie could no longer keep back her cries as she sobbed openly.

"Please Master-"

"No." He heard his own voice say, but not his at the same time. "Oswald."

"Please, Oswald." She begged frantically, her body squirming with the discomfort she was no doubt feeling.

It stirred something in Leo.

He didn't like seeing this.

It upset him and it brought out emotions in him that he didn't want to feel.

He didn't want to feel anything.

Once again he heard his own voice hiss out softly.

"Shh-Shh. It's okay. Just let me do whatever I want and then I will let you do whatever you want. It's simple. And besides this will make it easier for you to do what I want."

_What he wants?_ Leo thought.

He wondered what about what Oswald was doing was _not _what_ he_ wanted. And what did that mean? Make it_ easier_ for her to do what he wanted? What could he possibly want?

Incredibly enough most of Lottie's wounds had already healed and her nipples had now recovered from the slices.

Now Oswald was cutting little slices on the breast itself marveling at how her nipples, much to Lottie's distress, seemed to harden, becoming very stiff.

She turned her head to the side but Oswald turned it back and began kissing her.

For a moment he seemed distracted from the joys of the knife and Leo found that his view seemed to have gone dark, covered as it was by Oswald's face in Lottie's hair and neck. Oswald worked his way down her body, kissing her all over, paying special attention to the few unhealed wounds that she had, sucking and licking them.

Leo felt his face grow hot despite himself.

He had never seen a real naked female body before and to see it this up close was something of a shock. The closest thing he'd seen to the nude female form was a drawing during a very awkward anatomy class, of course it had not been nearly as awkward as seeing the male nude form and suddenly finding himself wondering what Elliot looked like without a stitch of clothes on.

_Yes_, _that_ had been awkward, but in an almost good way. But this was awkward in a truly horrendous way.

This was disturbing and what made it worse was the fact that, if what Revis had said was true, then the girl had some feelings for Oswald and yet he was doing this to her.

And to make it worse Lottie was a Baskerville. Baskervilles couldn't deny Glen.

It was a sick thing to do. And it really just proved how evil Glen was, how evil Oswald really was, that he could do this.

_Would I have become that depraved, if things had gone on? If I had gone on living with Elliot,_ he thought, _would I have become an even worse monster than I already am?_

Because that was how he saw the Glens, especially Oswald and_ especially_ himself. They were monsters, inconceivable monsters.

But the things that Leo saw only got worse.

Once Oswald had reached her bottom half, he pulled away and the look on Lottie's face, terribly conflicted and almost tinged with resentment, also looked needy. Then her face went away and Leo noticed that Oswald had turned the knife around and was preparing to impale Lottie with it.

He slipped it in and Leo heard groans as Oswald began to work it up and down in her, slipping it out, thrusting it in. Oswald looked at Lottie now, who seemed to be in a great state of crisis. Her eyes pierced through, straight to Leo and it was horrifying.

He wanted to stop things, but to do that was to acknowledge that the world still existed beyond Elliot's death, that he too lived and besides, Leo knew he only made things worse. He never helped anyone. If he were to take control of his body, do anything besides exist here in this realm, well, he would only further warp the lives of those around him or else become an even worse monster than Oswald or any of the other Glens.

No, it was best to stay passive, to stay _here_, with _them_, forever.

Suddenly Lottie's chest rose, she gasped and her chest flushed bright scarlet

Oswald looked down, pressing his hand against her and retracting the knife's hilt. And then he turned it around, plunging the blade into her.

She screamed loudly, sobbing, and Leo felt his stomach knot despite himself.

He didn't want to feel anything.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Why was it happening?

What he wanted was oblivion, nothingness, and yet here was this annoying, persistent feeling that this was horribly wrong, and yet he wasn't going to do anything to stop it.

He watched as Oswald placed his own finger, Leo's finger, on Lottie's clitoris stimulating it none stop until eventually Lottie's hips began to buck and rock. She was still sobbing except now the sobbing had taken on a more frantic and strangled tone.

Leo watched with a deadened, detached sort of horror as blood began to ooze out from Lottie's vagina and onto the already blood spotted sheets, as wounds from her legs and arms had also bled quite a bit before healing magically, not leaving a trace of anything having been amiss.

_This is horrendous_, Leo thought. _Terribly inhumane, something that only Glen could possibly come up with._

He wondered how he could watch this and not do anything. He could've laughed.

It was his body, his hands doing this, his eyes grazing over Lottie's terrified and trembling body, and yet he was just a passive watcher. He had already made up his mind that he wasn't going to do a thing. After all this didn't involve him. He was just a watcher now. No more. No less.

_Elliot would've done something_, he thought. _It doesn't matter that she had every intention of harming him that day, he'd still rescue her from this. Because Elliot is kind_, Leo thought. _Because Elliot is noble and I am no Elliot. I am a monster, just as depraved as the man performing the act or the men who pace this dark, dank room that I'm in._

All of a sudden Lottie came in a sharp scream, her body twitching from the pain and pleasure of it.

Oswald removed the bloody blade.

_She won't die_, Leo thought. _She is a Baskerville. She won't die from something like this. Baskervilles are pretty much immortal._

Leo had the dark thought that he wished that this girl was dead, in fact would've gladly sacrificed her, to bring Elliot back. After all why should this girl live while Elliot had to die.

He wondered how things would've been different if Elliot had been a Baskerville, but then again Elliot never could have been. Elliot was a_ good_ person. These people, the Baskervilles, they were all depraved. Every last one of them.

Now Leo could see Oswald insert the penis, Leo's now very erect penis, into Lottie's bloody entrance.

Leo watched.

_He's doing this just to hurt her_, he thought _Why?_

He heard Lottie gasp and moan, her eyes were tightly closed and her head was turned to the side. It was obvious she was trying to keep her breathing steady. She was covered in sweat and there were tears running down her face as her chest heaved. Her face was burning, and so was her chest, but the rest of her looked rather alarmingly pale.

Oswald took his finger to Lottie's chin and forced her head to turn to him. He said for her to open her eyes and she did. She looked almost completely drained. Oswald told her "very good" and looked at her for a long while.

_What? Does he just want to watch her in pain?_ Leo wondered.

As he watched Lottie's eyes it became obvious that she had almost resigned her self but at the same time was painfully aware that it was Oswald doing this to her, to her mind, Glen, and she seemed endlessly hurt by the realization.

Oswald's face turned and Leo could see that Oswald had pulled out the erect penis leaving just the tip in before plunging back inside and so commenced the thrusting. Leo wanted to look away but he just couldn't, a surge of emotions that had been missing for so long came crashing in on him completely unbidden.

He remembered, with a barely concealed lust, the times that that body had been_ his_. All the times that he had taken that erect member and plunged it into a babbling Elliot feeling that lovely sensation of Elliot around him, knowing that that warmth was_ Elliot's_, that those contracting muscles were Elliot's. And then hearing Elliot call out his name? Nothing had been sweeter.

He thought of the times that his hands had roamed Elliot's body, gripped Elliot's hair, his lips brushing against those fine, surprisingly soft, lips that belonged to Elliot. He thought of his own lips wrapped around Elliot's cock, taking him in deeper and deeper. The ability to feel, taste, smell…God he hadn't realized how much he missed that.

And then there were the times that Elliot had touched Leo, the times that Elliot's hands had been wrapped around Leo's cock, touching and stroking it, Leo's pert little ass pushed up and back, driving it into Elliot's thrusts.

He missed that.

He missed it when Elliot would smile at him and flick a strand of his hair out of his eyes, when he'd try awkwardly to "talk dirty", telling Leo how tight his sweet little ass was, or just how hard he was making him. Leo always found it amusing, all of Elliot's attempts and how many of them were just Leo's own lines tweaked and recycled by Elliot.

Leo wanted to smile.

Elliot had always, been woefully bad at such things. Elliot was sexy just being Elliot. He didn't have to try. And besides Leo liked being the whorish one, instigating acts and introducing Elliot to strange new pleasures while Elliot blushed.

Leo loved him.

No one had made him happier. No one had ever even tried to understand Leo, not until Elliot.

And with Elliot he didn't have to try or act differently. He could just be himself and that was okay and Elliot could be himself and that was okay, too. And sure sometimes they fought, but there was an understanding between them that made it all somehow okay. They could sit in silence or spend the night talking. It didn't matter. Everything just felt right around Elliot. Leo didn't have to hide or feel ashamed or hear those damned whispering voices around him, in his head, torturing him. With Elliot it was all just right.

And they'd had some good times with that body of his that was now being carelessly used by Oswald.

How many times had that cock thrust into Elliot? How many times had those lips been kissed and sucked on by Elliot? How many times had that ass been violated in the most exquisite way by Elliot's spectacular endowment?

And then there'd been the more subtle things.

Elliot's lips pressed into his neck and shoulders, Elliot's arms wrapped around him, Elliot brushing his hair out of his face, taking off those glasses and kissing his eyelids saying that he loved those the most, even though Leo was most ashamed of them, Elliot thought they were beautiful. Every now and then he'd leave the glasses off, his bangs pushed back from his face and just lay there in Elliot's bed completely content with the sun beaming in and Elliot, the messy sleeper, sprawled out with an arm draped over him.

Other times he'd take his glasses and slip them back on and Elliot would once again tell him how stunning those eyes were.

"Though I'm by no means putting down any of your body's other attributes" He'd say with a smile on his face and an arch in his brow, another one of Elliot's attempts to be sexy that would just have Leo smiling and laughing by the end of it.

Often Leo would end up with a hardcover of Holy Knight thrown at his head once Elliot realized what he was laughing about, but Leo didn't mind.

He had been happy. What now seemed like long, long ago he had been happy. Really, truly happy.

He could've cried from the sheer longing and remembrance of a time when things had been different.

_Now _he was watching as another being did as he pleased with his body or rather took his body and used it to violate another's.

He could now see Lottie's face. It was clear that she was in pain, that she was conflicted and miserable, suffering horribly and yet it was also clear that the urge to orgasm had struck her again and she was now searching for that one thread of pleasure that would take her there. She had grasped Oswald's arms, squeezing them tightly as she was trying to push her hips up, help herself along, her eyes squeezing shut occasionally just to open with tears welled up in them, her lips pressed together.

Oswald meanwhile grabbed her hips and held them down so that only he controlled the thrusting.

How many times had those exact same hands straightened Elliot's tie, made him a cup of tea, thrown something at him, held his place in a book for him, or bathed themselves in his come? How many times?

Now he could hear, first Lottie, and then his own warped voice, shout in orgasm which, after the last couple of thrusts, resulted in Oswald pulling swiftly out of Lottie, repelling her like she was a used up toy that he no longer had any more use for.

Oswald collapsed on the other side of Lottie, flat on his back. He glanced over at her and Leo saw only her heaving chest, her tear, and possibly sweat, soaked face and her eyes held tightly shut. Her bottom lip was trembling and one hand rested flat on her chest, as if trying to calm herself.

Oswald turned his head to look up at the dark grey canopy.

Leo thought of all the times that he and Elliot had laid in a daze in bed, both after they'd become lovers and before when they'd kidded themselves (or rather Elliot had kidded himself) into believing they were just friends.

As friends they'd laid there and talked about various things, the Head Hunter, school, Elliot's increasingly fragmented family, his mother's cheating, his father's distance, his older brothers various sexual exploits and Earnest's general foolishness. They talked about Vanessa and how scary she was and how they both suspected that _something_ was going on between her and Hans. Sometimes they talked about Gilbert's betrayal and Vincent's just general freakiness. They talked about how much Elliot hated the Vessalius family, especially Oz when he came onto the scene.

Sometimes they'd read or discuss Holy Knight.

Every now and then Elliot would grow really serious and he'd talked about how afraid he was of losing his family, or how he didn't understand why his brothers hated Vincent and Gilbert so much (especially Gilbert). He spent a lot of time talking about his nightmares and the Head Hunter, too.

After they'd realized their feelings for each other, or rather Elliot recognized what _those _feelings were, they would discuss basically the same kinds of things, except they were naked and holding each other.

Leo found it interesting that Elliot always seemed most comfortable when their "activities" (Elliot's terminology, not Leo's) took place at Lutwidge and not in his own bed at his own house, but Elliot had never seemed terribly comfortable in his home, especially after Gilbert left.

Leo understood why.

The Nightray's weren't exactly what you would call_ warm_ people.

There were plenty of times when, after a particularly rousing and exhaustive night (or morning or mid-afternoon) of "activities" they would just lay together, sweaty, with most of the sheets kicked off, holding each other. Normally Leo had his head resting on Elliot's chest.

He really doubted that Oswald was the cuddling type.

Leo had had enough of watching the sickening bastard who had ruined his life and taken his body, though as much as he hated the man he had been right about one thing.

Just because he'd stopped Elliot from dying didn't mean that he'd saved him.

He supposed that being right about that one thing gave Oswald the right to do as he pleased.

After all he'd won.

Leo closed his eyes and felt his knee caps on his forehead.

He_ really_ missed Elliot.

He felt empty without him. And nothing was ever going to make that emptiness go away.

Ever.

-M. Palovna


	4. Chapter 4: Revis

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts nor do I hold any rights to it.

Revis marveled at the foolishness of his former servant.

Oswald had always been an interesting one and he had never really understood him, but he had to say he never dreamed that Oswald would become what he was now: A man torn to shreds by his own self-loathing and regrets, but that was not to say that he was so tormented that he could not act, unlike the young man in the corner there, who hardly moved and never spoke.

Oswald could be a highly productive self-loather. Revis knew something of this game, but clearly not nearly as much as Oswald.

If anyone had told him when he handed over that last chain, Jabberwock, to Oswald, christening him the new Glen, that Oswald's reign would see an entire city crashing down into the Abyss, a disenfranchised Baskerville clan and the sealing of Glen's soul, well, he would never have believed that Oswald would have_ allowed_ such a thing, even though, truth be told, Revis was kind of excited to see it all happen.

But now he watched the boy that he had pretty much raised and had indeed looked upon as a son of sorts, throw aside a girl he had just pretty much mutilated during sex.

Well, it's safe to say Revis never realized the depths of cruelty a man like Oswald could possess, but they were very deep apparently.

He had never dreamed how profound the effect the loss of Oswald's sister would have on him. He had of course figured that Oswald wouldn't be all roses and daises about it, but still, the man had nearly drowned himself in his depression, suffering silently, rotting inwardly.

Revis also never would have predicted the effect that Jack's betrayal would have on him.

That _truly _was a shock.

He supposed that Lacie had known better when she had said that Jack and Oswald were friends. They certainly were and that bond seemed to have only deepened once Lacie left…well….at least on Oswald's end.

Revis himself wasn't quite sure what to do.

Oswald seemed hell bent on going back in time to kill Lacie sooner in order to break her connection with Jack and also prevent Alice and the Will of the Abyss from existing.

Oswald's plans went straight up against Revis's own plans. He wasn't quite sure what to do about that, though he figured he'd have to figure out something sooner or later.

He doubted that the other Glens would be of much assistance after all they had never liked him much and wouldn't even speak to him if they could avoid it, which so far they had, for a hundred years.

Revis had no illusions.

He had no friends here. He also doubted that sad little crumpled up heap over in the corner called Leo would be much more open to helping him than the other Glens, besides the boy seemed too broken up and truth be told he really did feel sorry for him.

The boy was terribly young and had never been given an ounce of guidance.

_No wonder he's such a mess_, Revis thought, _if I'd been left to my own devices, hearing strange men chat in my head and tell me stuff, all the while watching little flecks of gold float by, well, I too might have taken the dark path, grown out my hair, become an outcast and buried my nose in books._

He could understand where Leo was coming from.

All Glens went through a period of time where they didn't know what the hell was going on, but it was normally a period that lasted a few years, then they found Glen and got some clarity. Also they didn't start hearing voices until they inherited the chains and by then they knew just what they were wrapped up in. But Leo had gone all of his 16 years without guidance or answers, struggled a bit and then found love in the arms of his handsome Master. It wasn't a bad story. It was just destined to end badly because Leo was a Baskerville and a group of deceptively old (but young looking) men were living in his head, one in particular was quite rowdy.

Revis really did feel for Leo.

He'd involuntarily warped the lives of all who he cared about and in the end didn't even get the keys to the kingdom.

It just wasn't fair.

Revis figured that at some point he would go over and talk to the boy, but not now. The time just wasn't right yet.

He watched Oswald, something he did pretty much non-stop now as he felt it was his duty to keep an eye on the boy, give the Glens updates, even if they did refuse to acknowledge him.

Oswald stared at the grey canopy for the longest time before moving once again, turning to the girl, Lottie, and grabbing her hips and pulling her up, arranging her so that she sat on his thighs.

_Oh good Lord_, thought Revis, _what is he going to do now? _

He truly felt for the girl.

She may have been a Baskerville. She may have been more than capable of healing before the night was out, but being a Baskerville did not mean that she didn't feel pain and Revis imagined that she must've been hurting something awful given the amount of blood gushing out of her and the location it was coming from.

Truly, it had devastated Revis witnessing this act performed by Oswald.

After the incident with the knife for him to then enter the girl and thrust into her the way he was thrusting, it just made the act with the knife seem all the more horrendous.

Revis had never thought of Oswald as a monster, never even dreamed that he could become one, but the Oswald whose eyes he saw through was most diffidently a monster, a very hurt and confused monster, but a monster none-the-less and Revis was left to wonder if this was a result of all his pent up rage from countless years or else all his pent up sexual tension, collected over a hundred years and warped by his resentment, anger and regrets (after all he knew that Oswald had never committed any _real_ sex acts despite Revis's various attempts to get him to. "Believe me." He had warned young Oswald one day when he found the boy sitting peacefully in a chair. "It's going to be a lot less fun when you have the full force of the Glens all making comments about your performance and which sex positions they had preferred in their time." Oswald had blushed and waited for him to leave. Regardless Revis had tried to warn him.)

Revis felt the situation was made worse by the fact that the girl he was so brutally using was a girl who genuinely cared about him. Revis even thought that this girl might actually _love_ Oswald, regardless of the sick little bastard that he'd become.

And here Oswald was just ruining her with an impressive amount of enthusiasm. It was all wrong.

He thought that Oswald should've taken that beautiful girl a hundred years ago, right after he'd become Glen, and made sweet, sweet love to her instead of spending so much time with Jack.

Hell, Revis felt that right now, what Oswald should have been doing was telling that girl how beautiful she was, what sweet little tits she had and that she was a blessing sent from a golden Abyss. After all it's what Revis would've done.

Oswald most certainly hadn't done that though.

_Perhaps Oswald is beyond saving_, Revis thought numbly as he watched the scene before him unfold.

Lottie's eyes bored down into Oswald's (and what Revis felt was straight through to him, after all her eyes had that sort of quality to them).

She looked incredibly calm and composed given what had just happened to her. Her gaze was even and she had perfectly straight posture, though he could see that she was trembling. She had the look of a child on her face. Revis suspected because something of her just dried tears gave her a surprisingly stripped, young looking face.

Now Oswald was speaking. He was handing her the knife and she was looking at it with a deadened kind of confusion.

"Take it." Oswald was saying. "_Take it!_" He hissed when she didn't act fast enough for him.

She reached over and took the knife and held it. As she looked at it tears began to well in her pretty pink eyes.

"Do you know what I want you to do with it?" Oswald asked, but the voice was not Oswald's as Revis had ever known it.

Only the speech patterns remained the same.

Lottie shook her head.

"I want you to take this knife and I want you to hurt me." He said levelly, calmly, like it was the most natural thing of all.

"I can't." Lottie was now sobbing and trying to hand the knife back to Oswald but Oswald was having none of it.

"Of course you can." He said with a strange tinge to his voice. "Of course you can. Charlotte, I've hurt you…._badly_. You must hate me. You must want to take revenge upon me. It's only natural and I _want you_ to do whatever it is that you desire most. Truly I do. My only request is that you do your best to make it hurt. I want it to_ hurt_, Charlotte."

"No." Lottie sobbed. "I don't want to Lord Glen. I don't want to hurt you." She blushed hard. " Lord Glen, I-"

"_Shut up!_" Oswald roared and Lottie flinched at the sound. "Shut up!" Oswald repeated softer, like he had a bad headache or something. "I am _not _your Lord Glen. Okay. I am not. I am Oswald. Just Oswald." He sighed. "Are you really so_ pathetic _and blindly loyal to me that you refuse to strike against me, when I, I have hurt you so much. I mean Charlotte, I've mutilated you, sure, you'll heal, but you had to feel that _awful _pain. Don't you want to inflict some of it on me? Wouldn't it make you happy to do the same to me? Isn't that the fundamental way of everything? I hurt you. You hurt me. I take something from you. You take something from me. An eye for an eye."

She just looked at him.

"Don't make me command you, Charlotte. I've had my feel of you. I wanted to make it easier. I wanted to give you a_ reason_ to inflict these wounds. Now, wasn't that kind of me? Now, I want you to take that pretty little blade of yours and slice me and dice me in as many ways as possible." He reached up and grabbed her chin. "I know you can do this. You are a creative and smart girl and I'm told that in these 100 years that have passed you've grown quite talented at such things. So brutalize me. Do your best to utterly and completely destroy me," His voice took on a strange tone, as if he were smiling. "even if it is useless." He jerked her chin and released it. "Do the equivalent and worse of what I've done to you. Make it hurt, Charlotte. Humiliate me and don't make me tell you twice. After all _you _are a Baskerville and I," He laughed, giggled really and it was strange because it sounded so much like Leo, so very much. "_I_ am _Glen_. And you do have to follow Glen's orders, don't you?"

Lottie nodded.

"That's right, that's right!" Oswald said hysterically. "You have to, and you will call me Oswald, except towards the end when you may call me 'Lord Glen' if it pleases you and makes it easier for you. After all both are damned and deserve this."

Lottie's face was twisted with revulsion and confusion and horror but she obeyed, and she took the knife and went straight for the nipples, crying the entire time.

Oswald was doing a tremendous amount of damage to the girl, but now Revis thought that he understood the situation a little better.

Oswald desired punishment, pain that he thought he deserved but knew would be fruitless in the end. Oswald _wanted_ to suffer, his self-loathing taking on a whole new level of depravity in that he now wanted that torture to come in a sexual sense as well.

_Oh, will there ever be an end to it_, Revis thought.

The boy was going to torture himself for an eternity it seemed. Running himself over the coals both mentally and physically.

In a way it was like he still thought he could escape it, like he thought that through some punishment or absolution that he could run away from what he was, but Revis knew that he could not do that and it was useless trying.

_But he will try_, Revis thought, _he will try and he will fail and then he'll try yet again and I'll have to watch during all that time. _

And he did watch as this young pretty thing took out a thousand stresses on him, committed a thousand cruel acts upon him, attempted, futilely, to scar Oswald in places that Oswald never would've been creative enough to come up with on his own and Revis himself winced as he witnessed the brutality of her creativity, Revis himself remembering what it was like to have a body that was "out there".

The sheets soon became dyed with Oswald's blood as well and all the while Oswald took it like a man, his jaw clenched and only wincing once when she hit a particularly sensitive place, other than that he was like a numb statue, allowing her to do whatever struck her.

She cut him in many humiliating places in her attempts to mutilate him and she even did, as best as she could, the equivalent of what he had done to her with the knife, but the entire time she sobbed uncontrollably, as if she would've assumed to take the knife and slit her throat than commit another crime against his body.

But still she carried out his order without fail.

Once she had learned he was growing hard from the pain she had done everything in her power to stunt him, preventing him from releasing until _she_ decided which, for some reason, seemed to cause Oswald the most mental distress. He almost looked worried as he struggled to come, but she deftly stopped him.

In the end, when she had finished with her machinations against him, the knife (this time with the hilt turned mercifully toward him) security stuck someplace it shouldn't have been, she set herself upon him, fixing his cock in her and then she began rocking, moving herself up and down on him.

This actually got Oswald to open his mouth in a very loud moan and to reach reflexively to Lottie's hips to help her in her labor.

Within a few minutes both came in loud gasps and moans, Lottie with her head tilted back and her eyes squeezed shut and Oswald with his eyes wide and his mouth gaping.

Lottie rode out her orgasm and had been about to dislodge when Oswald grabbed her hips and held her in place, whether it was just a preference of his or him riding out the rest of his orgasm was unclear. Eventually though he did let go and she leaned down, in an odd gesture of love to the man who had hurt her so badly, and kissed him, kissed him with a surprising amount of tenderness and love given the things she had just finished doing to him.

And even more of a surprise was the fact that he kissed her, sweetly, back, even brushing a strand of hair behind her ears.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, and with such reverence.

"Lord Glen." And withdrew.

He let her.

She placed two tender kisses upon his nipples (they were nearly healed by now) and then she sat up, freed herself from him and gently pulled the hilt out of his bottom (safe to say that said hilt was now covered in partially dried blood). Lottie crawled off of him, laid the knife on the nightstand and laid down.

The view from Oswald's side of things remained fixed on the dark grey silk canopy.

Revis was perplexed.

So Oswald looked for his absolution and punishment from the hands of a pretty young woman who really loved him and who had sought him out ever since she'd climbed out from the Abyss, but was now forced by an order from him to hurt him in any way that her cruel little mind could think up.

It was truly perplexing, the things that people did to ease their mental sufferings, to try to right their wrongs, to atone so to speak or just dish out a punishment that made it all seem okay somehow.

Other times it was just that person trying to take it upon themselves to even out the cosmic scales, to exercise some particularly gnarly demons, other times it was just a sick way to try and atone for sins already committed or soon to be.

Revis wondered what Oswald's excuse was. He thought it was probably the sum of it all.

_You are a fool my damned boy_, he thought to himself_. You are nothing but a damned fool._

-M. Palovna


	5. Chapter 5: The End

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts nor do I hold any rights to it.

Lottie had laid there in a dazed stupor afterwards, not quite believing the things that had occurred, what Oswald had done to her, and in her eyes, more horrendously, what she had done to Oswald.

He had ordered her to. She hadn't had a real choice in the matter, but every time she closed her eyes, even if it was just to blink, she saw that scene of blood coat the backs of her eyes. And she'd done all of that to him.

_Because he asked me to_, she thought. _It's not like I had a choice._

And yet that also disturbed her because it meant just that: She hadn't had a choice and the power of Glen over her, a Baskerville, was exercised against her yet again and she was helpless.

She hated feeling helpless, nor was she used to it.

She made people feel helpless. _They _did not make her feel helpless.

Now she was helpless every time she felt the bed move.

She feared that Glen's hands would once again descend upon her and it ashamed her to no end that at the same time, mingled with this fear of pain, if he were to check he would've found her wet from arousal and her nipples erect with anticipation.

She could've sobbed.

This is not how she wanted to be seen by Glen. With Glen it was different. It should've been different. It was _supposed_ to be different.

She didn't want him to see the side of her that was so love starved and whorish that even pain, in her mind, melded with intimacy, that that was how desperate and depraved that she had become. It was one thing for a man like Vincent to see her that way, after all Vincent was trash, but Glen, Glen mattered and she would've done anything to erase the memories of the past couple hours from her head…and his.

She was so ashamed.

She felt so helpless. She hadn't even felt this helpless when at the mercy of Mad Hatter at Sablier, but now? Now she felt helpless.

She felt the mattress shift.

"Why?" Came a cold voice, Glen's voice, but not Glen's voice.

She looked over and Glen repeated his question.

"Why? Why did you kiss me? Why did you call me Lord Glen? You were gentle towards the end. You let me…come. Why did you do this? You could've done whatever you wanted with me so why?" His voice was kept a little too perfectly level and the volume was like a whisper.

"Because you said that I could do anything that I wanted but that I also had to hurt you. Towards the end there, that last little bit, that was what I _wanted_ to do. But I also had to carry out your order so I left the knife in you…" She paused for a moment.

Her face was scarlet and her heart-beat was pounding in her chest.

She was getting to_ speak_ to Glen. To her that meant more than any sexual act that could ever be committed. To her that mattered. His attention lying with her words, not her actions, in her mind played out a higher kind of intimacy, one that she cherished and longed for.

She continued.

"I called you Lord Glen because that _is_ what you are. It is a title that you deserve and have earned, though you may not like it that is who you are to me. My Lord Glen…" She whispered. "To me it is a term of endearment, not an abuse. I also thought that it would hurt you far worse if I was kind and gentle towards the end than harsh. So in the end I carried out your orders to the very last."

Glen's eyes widened and he nodded in a slow gesture, a terrible and yet surprisingly heartwarming realization sinking in.

To look at him was to see the very root of a frenzied madness, intensity bottled up in a carefully contained jar that was beautiful on the outside, but whose contents on the inside were incredibly disturbing.

"You were right, Charlotte." He said. "You were very right. Thank you. That was exactly what I needed. You may go to sleep now if you wish."

She felt his hand brush against her thigh and then to her vagina, stroking her hair there with his long graceful fingers (fingers that now seemed so like _Her_ Glen's), fingers that belonged to another man.

Then he withdrew them and turned on his side, facing away from her.

Lottie turned on her side too, also away from him, but it took her awhile to fall asleep. And before she did she heard the distinctive sounds of sniffling and a suppressed sob barely held in check.

The mattress jostled slightly from the movements of his chest heaving.

She eventually decided to risk a look and turned her head slowly to the side. What she saw took her aback.

She couldn't see his face, but she could see that one arm was raised up, his hands buried in his hair.

Slowly, as time passed, and he seemed sure that she was really asleep, his sobs became a little louder.

She turned around again at one point to find that his arm was now covering his face, his hand fisted and pale, but the little sliver of face that she could see was red.

His sniffling was more pronounced.

He was diffidently crying and it took everything in her not to crawl over there and comfort him, kiss him, tell him it was all going to be okay, whatever it was, she would make it okay, she would make him forget all of it, and comfort him until he was smiling. She wanted to do this so bad that it hurt her physically not to but she figured that it would only upset him, so she didn't.

It killed her though, to just lie there and listen. It was in this moment though that she realized how truly broken he was and it left her heartbroken. She didn't want this for him, truly.

She laid there listening to his impotent sobs, watching the fire burn down until she fell asleep.

She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, but at some point she heard the door creak open and the gentle light padding of a male's feet against the carpet.

She took a guess and laid there in horror as she realized that at some point while she was sleeping she'd kicked off her covers, leaving her bottom and the rest of her exposed.

She would've gotten the blanket and tried to cover herself up if it wasn't for the fact that then she'd have to acknowledge the man who'd entered the room.

She hoped that he would just leave and tried to lie very still as she felt the air around her stir.

It was still dark out and rain was pounding the windows. The fire had all but died.

She heard a slight click as the oil lamp came on and she felt the bed shake gently as Vincent shook Glen awake.

"Master," Vincent said in such a gentle, almost childlike voice that Lottie thought belied his true nature. "Master, I've come to wake you as per your request."

The bed shifted more as Glen rose up, his lean, slightly muscled 16 year old body rising to sit against the headboard.

"Yes, Vincent. Thank you." He said politely, but like he was irritated with, in reality, the much younger man.

He sounded like he was suffering from a headache.

There was a pause as Vincent poured a glass of water for his Master.

"Shall I also wake up the lady? She has guard duty for Oz Vessalius in roughly15 minutes."

"Yes, wake her." Glen said flatly, accepting the glass of water and rubbing his eyes.

"Very well." She heard Vincent say in his little sing song voice.

Lottie chose now to wake up.

"Ah, it seems she is already awake." Vincent smiled at her. "Good Morning, Miss Lottie."

She grimaced.

"Vincent." She said as she tried to cover herself.

"What are you so embarrassed for?" Glen questioned coldly. "He has seen you naked before, hasn't he?"

Lottie froze.

She hadn't told him so she guessed that it must've been Vincent. She was left crestfallen from the shame of it.

She nodded, watching as Vincent went about fetching Glen some clothes.

"Just go get your clothes, Charlotte. There's no need for you to cover yourself." Glen ordered her.

She suppressed her sigh and nodded as she crawled off the bed and went about getting her clothes.

"Don't worry." Vincent said, as he now also went about, gathering Glen's discarded clothes. "I won't look, Lottie." He smiled coyly at her, one ruby eye glowing slightly in the half glow of the room.

That one eye grazed appreciatively over her and she wanted to strangle him with his cravat as she took her clothes to a wing back chair and began dressing herself as Vincent did the same to Glen.

Lottie figured that she had just about enough time to dash to her own quarters and get on a more appropriate ensemble before going on guard duty.

She winced a little as she moved, her body still sore as an after effect of the knife Glen had used on her. All her cuts were healed but she was still in some pain and in all truth could've benefited from some more sleep.

She walked over to the nightstand and fetched her knife. Then she went to the door, but before she left she turned around and bowed.

"Lord Glen." She said with reverence, head bowed even though, in all honesty, it was killing her.

Glen, who sat on the bed completely clothed now, Vincent worrying away at his tie, simply made a cutting motion with his hand for her to rise.

"Goodbye, Charlotte." He said.

And Lottie nodded.

She looked up to see that Glen had pushed away Vincent's hands.

"It's fine. I'll tie it myself. Just go. I need a minute to myself. I'll be out in a minute." Glen said harshly.

Unfazed, Vincent simply nodded his head, his hands reflexively clasping behind his back.

"Yes, Master Glen. Of course. Alert me if you need me." And his feet padded away and much to Lottie's irritation they exited the room together.

Immediately Lottie started heading in the direction of her room. Vincent's chirpy little voice stopped her.

"I told him how good you were with that knife of yours." He chuckled. "You know, you should thank me."

Lottie sneered and watched as a very Gilbert Nightray looking figure walked, ghost like, past the hallway on the far end. If her estimate was right he must've been heading outside. She smiled a little and turned toward Vincent.

"You know, you're right Vincent, thank you."

"You're very welcome." He said with a single nod, his eyes squinting at her as he smiled.

She turned around and walked away, but hollered back behind her shoulder.

"You know, Vincent, I think you better check on your precious Nii-san right now. I mean I would if I were you." She smiled as she listened to the split second pause and then the rush of his pattering feet.

She knew that she'd pay for it later but right now she didn't care.

Everyone paid for something eventually. She knew that she'd get hers, just as Vincent would get his, and Gilbert his. But she worried secretly about what outcome would befall Glen, what he would bring about as his own punishment, because she was worried that whatever it was, it would crush him completely and utterly and after all, once you fell you could never get back up again and she desperately wanted Glen to be standing, though she had her doubts about whether or not he deserved this, or even wanted it.

She sighed and kept on walking.

-M. Palovna


End file.
